Flowers and Sunshine
by AZ-woodbomb
Summary: Something new and alien has hit the streets of Gotham: Happiness. If nothing is done quickly, the city will be drowned in bright colors and fluffy feelings.
1. The Day the Night Stood Still

AN: I've been watching, reading and writing such downer stuff lately. So here is some mindless, ill-prepared happiness.

_Author takes no responsibility for sudden and debilitating brain-cell damage._

* * *

><p>Dick stares at the cold ground of the cave, lost in thought. Two days ago, the Batman had walked out of the cave without any explanation of where he was going. He'd just looked over his shoulder and said, dramatically:<p>

"I'm going to disappear for a while. Hold the fort."

There was a flash of thunder and he was gone. Since then there had been no sign of him. The files held no hint of the case he was investigating, nor how he had managed to summon lightning indoors. But later that night, Nightwing would discovered something that might be related. He would have a run-in with the Scarecrow.

* * *

><p>It started out as always: Unnerving, bizarre, dangerous, some slight bondage. But in the end all obstacles are cleared and Nightwing has only to catch the fleeing Scarecrow.<p>

But as he enters the room his quarry ran into, he is not confronted by anything expected. There is no fear toxin, no terrified people coming to claw his eyes out. Instead there is something far more horrifying.

The Scarecrow is humming an upbeat tune as he paints the walls of his hideout a bright yellow.

As Nightwing stands there, trying to discern at what point his perception of the world went awry, the Scarecrow's head snaps up to look at him.

"_You are my sunshine, my only_...Oh, hello. Be with you in a moment, just need to liven up the place. Why, oh why is my hideout so awfully gloomy? It's a wonder I could even live here."

Nightwing immediately calls Oracle.

"I need back-up. He got me with some new version of the toxin."

The Scarecrow twirls around the room in that hideous, boneless fashion of his.

"Oh, I just can't wait to repay my debt to society! Even if I don't really think I owe them anything. I'll just stop experimenting. If they don't want to step over the threshold and reach the next step of psychological evolution, that's their problem. If they're too damn infantile to understand my research then so be it!"

He instantly calms down, puts a finger to his lips.

"Maybe I'll start a bakery when I get out."

Nightwing's breath comes fast and shallow. He can feel his heart beating unnaturally. The room seems to spin. Definitely poisoned. Has to be.

"Oracle, I need backup. Now, now, now!"

Barbara's cool and collected voice buzzes in his ear.

"Did the Scarecrow just say he wants to be a baker?"

There is a moment of silence. The Scarecrow stares at him, the mask revealing hints of a broad, dopey smile.

"You heard that?"

"I definitely heard it."

"What's wrong with being a baker?" The Scarecrow asks, worry and hurt playing in his voice.

There is another moment of silence.

"Okay, if there's nothing wrong with me, then there's definitely something wrong with him."

The Scarecrow laughs loudly and shrilly.

"How silly! There's nothing wrong with me. I've never been happier!"

Nightwing bites down on his fear and handcuffs the villain. The Scarecrow is calm on the way to Arkham, passing his time by apologizing for every slight he has ever done anyone. It is a harrowing ride.

The Scarecrow is still blushing and apologizing as the orderlies lead him away. Nightwing can only shudder as he imagines what other horrors might be taking place in the city at that very moment.

* * *

><p>A little girl sits in absolute darkness, playing menacingly with a ball. It bounces. Up and down, up and down. The very air itself seems thick and heavy, as if even it has been brought low by this perversity. Is there no one who will bring an end to this affront to humanity?<p>

Suddenly! A voice like an ice-cream jingle booms through the dark night:

"It's over, Baby Doll."

Her head snaps up, eyes wide.

"I didn't mean t…I mean: Who's there?"

"Your best daydream," growls the darkness.

As Baby Doll stumbles along in the dark a bright figure appears in front of her with a flash, all the colors of the rainbow bombarding her sensitive eyes. She falls down, shivering as a brightly clad hand inches closer. She screams like a grown man.

* * *

><p>AN: There's little plot in there, but let's pretend there is. To be continued.<p> 


	2. Heaven is Other People

AN: Here is some more mindless happiness, straight from the sludge that constitutes my mind to you.

_If your life starts to resemble the reality of the story, see your doctor._

* * *

><p>The mood is heavy the next morning as the orderlies of Arkham take one of their most dangerous inmates, the Scarecrow, out of his cell and cart him into the rec room. There they carefully undo all his bindings and return his costume before ushering him to a sofa, where all the other high profile inmates currently staying at the asylum are seated. The head guard watches the proceedings with a grim yet professional look, nodding his head in appreciation of his underlings' good work.<p>

"Alright, people. Make sure none of them are sedated or restricted in any way. I don't wanna think about what might happen if they got access to drugs or restraints."

The other guards stare up at him with admiration in their eyes.

"Wow, Seth, you think of everything."

"Yeah, man, with you on the job, we got nothin' to worry about."

Seth blushes furiously.

"Aw, shucks, guys."

The staff share a group hug, with plenty of praise and other constructive comments flowing between them.

Meanwhile, the villains currently chilling on the sofa are having words of their own, albeit nowhere near as beautiful.

"Is it just me or is the world unusually idiotic this week?"

The Riddler looks to his diminutive neighbor for an answer.

"What world?"

The Hatter can not keep up a normal conversation any more than usual, so perhaps the world has not been turned on its head.

"Does Crane look unusually mad or is it just me?"

This time the Hatter only raises an eyebrow.

"Well, for one, he's waving at the air. And he's cheerful. This doesn't strike you as odd?"

The Hatter stares at him blankly.

"He's not waving at thin air," Garfield Lynns answers as he points out the object of Scarecrow's attention. Riddler looks up and screams.

"What the hell is that?"

Everyone in the room hears the scream, but no-one finds it worth their time. The staff are still busy hugging it out, the patients are busy trying to avert nuclear war. Only the Riddler and Firefly seem shocked that there is a man hanging upside down from the ceiling, watching them. He's wearing rather stylish sunglasses.

"That's Dr. Coverunder," explains the Hatter. "He's new."

The Riddler stares at the man.

"Why and how is he hanging like that?"

"He's eccentric," explains the Hatter.

There is a short silence.

"And why does his beard defy gravity?"

"He's eccentric," explains the Hatter.

Firefly loses interest at that answer and decides to occupy his time by staring at the floor. Only the Riddler is left to ponder the strange mystery before him. Well, above him.

"Is it just me or does his hair resemble ears of some sort?"

The Hatter shrugs.

"He's ecc…"

"Forget I asked."

* * *

><p>While all this transpires, there is commotion at the entrance to the asylum. A mud monster enters the gate, greets the receptionists and the guards and Dr. Joan Leland, who is there for reasons unknown.<p>

"Hello," the clay says.

"Welcome to Arkham," squeaks a giant of a guard.

"I'd like to check myself back in," the monster goes on, a small hole in the top of the blob serving as a mouth.

"Hokey-dokey," whimpers the giant, oozing a tough-as-nails attitude, unlike the monster, who is simply oozing.

"Oh, hang on," says the abomination known as Clayface. "Forgot something."

The monster stops. There is some movement in a spot of the clay that one could call a stomach, if one were feeling creative. Most of the staff stare dumbfounded. Slowly two shoes are pushed out of the clay, followed by shins, no doubt two in number as well.

"Oh my God," Joan gasps.

The giant guard averts his eyes. The receptionists show no emotion. Joan's eye twitches. Soon a whole corpse has been spat out. It lies limp on the floor, covered in goo and dirtying the floor. The staff all stare, varying degrees of horror playing upon their faces. Then the presumed corpse wakes up.

"Whuzzat?" The dirty man mumbles as he shakily gets to his feet.

"You gotta find some other place to live, Clyde. I'm sorry."

The monster forms a sad face. The bum starts to stagger away.

"Than's f'r the ssshhelter. Warmesht bed I's ever known."

But as the bum turns his back on the beast, a dozen muddy tentacles shoot out and grab him all over, raising him high up in the air. Even to the untrained eye, the pose is provocative.

"Oh, please God, no," Joan sobs, already feeling the need for a shower to end all showers.

But the monster does nothing untoward, merely hugs the bum fiercely, nearly absorbing the poor man once more.

"I'm gonna miss you, buddy!"

The monster then groans or wails, Joan isn't quite sure, but it sounds very sad. If the Oscar were awarded to mud-people, Basil would have a future.

"Okay," comes the bum's heartfelt response.

Clayface becomes a lovely maiden crying into a handkerchief as he waves his friend off. Said friend nearly returns at the sight, deterred only by Clayface's quick change into a dumpster.

"Things will get better soon, buddy, I just know it!"

The dumpster's voice moves everyone to tears. Apart from the receptionists, who still remain expressionless, apart from the slight twinkle of inhuman malice in their eyes.

* * *

><p>AN: Everything is moving along quite nicely and logically. Good work, people.<p> 


	3. With Strange Aeons Even Life May Live

AN: Another dose of literary brilliance.

_If having trouble forming complete sentences and coherent thoughts, stay calm and stop trying.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Nightwing sits atop a tall spire, staring down into the abyss below. The city is a jungle, he thinks with a hint of heroic worry. Poison Ivy is rampaging. He swoops down to the street, lands a few feet away from the madwoman.<p>

"Stop it," he demands heroically.

She greets him with a smile so radiant it could fuel a toaster for eons were it to be converted to energy.

"Yaaaaay!" Says the murderous fiend as she tackle-hugs him to the ground.

After a moment or two of stunned confusion, Nightwing headbutts her, insults her fashion sense and throws her a few feet into the air. As she soars through the air he scratches furiously at his skin, screaming in agony at the poison no doubt wracking his body.

A few moments later he realizes he is not burning up or falling dead to the ground. It is at this time that he notices Poison Ivy has not landed on the pavement with a thud. She is in fact hanging suspended up above him, he realizes as he looks up. And surprisingly, she looks displeased. Her eyes bulge and show hints of glowing, her mouth is clamped shut, her hair seems to act of its own will, as if trying to reach out and strangle him. It's been a long time since last a naked woman terrified him so.

"I'll…" she splutters.

There is a loud crack as the street starts to crumble, spots of green showing beneath the pavement.

"I'll…" she hisses.

The surrounding buildings are starting to creak.

"I'll…" she growls.

The screeching sound of metal assails his ears as cars are thrown around as if they were paper.

"I'll forgive you," she whispers like the summer wind.

He lets out a sigh of relief. Then the street is destroyed completely and he falls flat on a humongous green vine, which promptly starts to crawl along the street at an alarming pace. Ivy stands at the tip of the thing, the wind playing with her hair as they thunder onwards.

"Adventure time! Let's go change the world!"

He ignores her crazed yet seductive voice and calls Oracle.

"Hey, what exactly is the extent of Ivy's powers?"

The sensual slurp of someone drinking coffee on the other end delights his ears.

"Well, it depends on who's writi…I mean, she's fickle like nature itself! Yeah, that's the ticket."

He sighs.

"Thanks, Oracle."

He hangs up, safe in the knowledge that Ivy might destroy the world on a whim. Said possible world-destroyer is enjoying herself immensely, waving her arms like a conductor. A crazed, evil conductor. A normal conductor, in other words.

"Efficient lighting!"

All the streetlights are destroyed, replaced by glowing plants. Nightwing finds the new atmosphere quite cozy.

"No cars!"

The little cans on wheels are torn to shreds as Ivy laughs. It is a sultry, graceful, maniacal laugh.

"Down with body policing!"

Vines tear down billboards and advertisements.

"Groundbreaking medical breakthroughs!"

The vine smashes the wall of a hospital and Ivy jumps inside, gaily kicks in the door to the surgery room. She waves happily at the surgeons as they are tied down by her living bondage gear. She stares at the patient on the table.

"Kidney failure? Not anymore!"

She sets to work with a crazy-scientist-face that would impress even Dr. Crane. She plows into the opened body, plucking out and throwing away some unnecessary parts and replacing them with mysterious greenery.

"Ta-da!"

The now half-human stands up, smiling, as good as new, clapping his hands eagerly. His hair is now green, but that is simply fashionable.

Nightwing does nothing to stop all this. The vine is quite comfortable and he really could use a long, relaxing bondage session, so he decides to hang around with the villainous woman. They leave the hospital, Ivy waving happily at the dumbfounded surgeons.

As Poison Ivy dances atop the vine in the moonlight, Dick can't help but think she looks somewhat supernatural. It feels like a fairy queen is standing before him. He feels the same sensation he gets every morning when he looks in the mirror: Deep admiration sprinkled with slight sexual attraction.

They further traverse the city on their huge, slightly phallic transport. They pass a window, behind which stands Dr. Hugo Strange, a sensual nosebleed playing upon his lips. His eyes darken, then become vortexes. He groans.

"It's… so…Freudian."

Outside Dick stares up at Ivy, the moonlight playing upon her pale skin. Dick feels a profound emotion stirring in his breast.

"You're the actual Earth Mother," he whispers loudly.

She glances down at him with a smile, then returns her gaze to the skies, yelling.

"I am everyone's mother! I am everyone's lover!"

Her hands reach for the skies, as do the gigantic vines climbing all over the surrounding buildings. Dick sheds a tear.

"I am a dream!" She screams at the heavens.

The moon cries. The night is filled with beauty.

And so Dick's night drags on, filled with strange thoughts and intense bondage, the sort only Ivy can deliver.

* * *

><p>Victor Zsasz wearily rubs his eyes, the sudden bright light in his room blinding him. As he slowly regains his vision he finds himself confronted with a score of doctors. On their faces are smiles and on their heads are hats. Party hats. There is a cake in the room, a knife is presented to him.<p>

"Surprise!" The doctors scream, voices jolly.

Zsasz jumps to his feet with an innocent smile and grabs the knife. He stabs it quick and hard into his target, shivering as he drags out the cut.

"So good with a knife," Ruth sighs admiringly.

"What a man," Dr. Arkham whispers huskily.

The cake is cut and all are happy. Zsasz turns to the doctors next, happily swinging the blade this way and that. But much to his chagrin, the doctors do not accept his brand of happiness and refuse to be cut. They swing out of the way as if they were leaves in the wind, moving with inhuman speed.

He slashes, misses. "Woooooh," his intended target belts out as it slips away, hands flailing in some archaic dance.

He attacks again. "Woooooh!" Whistles the next doctor. Again. "Wooooooh!" Again. "Wooooh!" And so it goes on, on, on and on.

Ultimately, despite the splendid partying taking place, Zsasz gets sleepy. He curls up on his bunk with a smile and a happy sigh. As he slowly falls asleep he can feel someone patting his head, someone drawing the blanket over him, and someone slipping him a phone-number.

* * *

><p>AN: Hmm. The plot thickens.<p> 


	4. Dungeon of Song

AN: The happiness is strong in this one.

_Whenever it feels like the walls are closing in, pretend you're one of them.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Joan Leland watches the screen with unclouded horror on her face. The video shows the Scarecrow and Roxy Rocket entering Two-Face's cell.<p>

"Dear god, they're loose already?" She tries not to let the fear in her voice detectable. She cannot let on that she has a rocket-phobia.

Ruth shushes her, convinces her to keep watching.

The two figures crowd around the sleeping figure and lean over their fellow rogue. Two-Face seems to wake up as the two faces are mere inches from his own. It is of course plausible that he is still asleep, growling and thrashing for some completely unrelated reason. But his violent outburst is cut short, asleep or no, by some strange movement on the duo's part. Joan peers at the screen.

"What are they doing to him?"

Ruth stares at her dramatically.

"They're hugging him."

Joan's jaw drops. All thoughts in her head crash together and come to a complete stop. For a moment it feels as if her whole body might shut down. Then she manages to utter an insightful reply.

"Uh?"

Ruth takes a deep breath.

"Joan, this morning," she looks away, hesitating as if unsure of what she is about to say next, "This morning Dent was…Harvey Dent was happy, Joan."

There is a moment of intense silence. Then suddenly both of them swoon, in a professional way. They regain their senses a second before they hit the floor and use their unbelievable nimbleness to stop their fall. Their bodies hover only inches above the ground. There is a moment of intense silence.

Then both smile and nod, professionally, reaching a silent agreement. Neither of them actually swooned, you see. They were merely struck by the flippant urge to indulge in a spirited game of limbo. They exit the room in a jovial fashion, nimbly limboing out into the hallway, quietly admiring the other's skill. It should be apparent to all that Arkham is not in the habit of hiring lightweights. As they limbo along they pass the rec room, where Two-Face and Mr. Freeze are playing ping-pong with wild abandon, frivolous smiles on their faces. Perhaps today, just this once, it does not suck to be Harvey Dent.

* * *

><p>Oracle's voice buzzes in his ear as he glides through the now environmentally friendly streets.<p>

"So what happened to Ivy?"

He stares at the setting sun, entranced by its unbelievable beauty. He sees a bit of himself in it.

"Hmm?"

He can hear Oracle sighing.

"Ivy. What happened to her?"

He scratches his head, reminisces.

"She went to sleep. Said she was tired."

There is a strange silence on the other end.

"You didn't think she should be apprehended? After destroying rather large swathes of the city?"

He nibbles on his lip.

"Well, I dunno. Just didn't seem important at the time. But I gotta go, I'm at my destination."

He enters a club called The Nimble Crane. According to a tip from Wonder Woman, he will find his mentor here. Inside it takes him only a second to notice his teacher among all the other performers. He sidles up to the stage, tries to nonchalantly get his attention. A sultry wink convinces him he has succeeded. He sits down and awaits his chance. His eyes are transfixed on the world's greatest detective.

There is something special about the way Bruce pole-dances. Behind the edgy style and seductive swaying there is a hint of something fierce, grim and righteous. While his body worships the pole, his eyes beam nothing but cold, hard justice. Bruce turns around and jiggles, then spanks himself once, twice, thrice. The message is loud and clear: Backstage, 5 minutes, act natural: I will reveal all.

To make it believable, Dick leans forward and slips a fistful of dollars into his father figure's sparkling panties before tottering off to the bar. As he stares down into his milkshake he can't help but admire his mentor's dedication to the job. And his remarkable talent. They weren't joking when they said Batman trained to be the best at everything.

Five minutes later they are backstage. Batman makes it clear at the start that he has very little time, for he has to strut his stuff some more in only half an hour. The look on his face as he applies his lipstick is dead serious.

"Can you explain what's going on, Batman?"

Bruce practices in the mirror, making various seductive faces in quick succession. The mirror cracks a little under his stern yet loving gaze.

"What do you mean?"

Dick blinks.

"What's this case you're looking into? And why does it require pole-dancing?"

The Batman paints his nails with masterful strokes.

"It was the only way to gain access to the inner circle. The case itself is still top secret."

Dick nods, understanding in his eyes. He has a long way to go before he can reach the Batman's inherent mysteriousness. One day he will learn. He also really wouldn't mind picking up a few of the moves he exhibited earlier. His arsenal always likes seeing a few new arrows in his quiver.

"So you haven't noticed the epidemic? Or Ivy destroying the city?"

Batman blinks, his long, delicate yet manly eyelashes fluttering.

"I'm sure she meant no harm."

Dick paces the room anxiously.

"I see. That explains everything. But they're still acting very strange. It's almost as if they're profoundly happy individuals fully at peace with themselves."

Batman looks up slowly, sensually.

"Maybe I better look into it. I'll go check out Arkham, using my devious disguise as a doctor. Come see me there in a few hours. Meanwhile," he claps Dick's shoulder, "hold the fort."

Dick stares, shocked, as Batman slowly vanishes into thin air. Where he was only a moment before there remain only smiling, ruby red lips. In an instant, even this is gone. Dick lets out a gasp and applauds. Suddenly the door to the dressing room is slung open and the manager bursts quietly in.

"You're on in five!"

* * *

><p>AN: The plot loosens.<p> 


	5. The Man Who Hugged the World

AN: The next installment of the little tale.

_Feeling lonely?_ _Don't worry, you're not. Look behind you._

* * *

><p>The Riddler slowly awakens to a darkened room. From the thick smell of mental stagnation and pig-headed philosophy he gathers he's in the interrogation room. He is not alone. The light comes on.<p>

"You don't look very happy, Edward."

The villain's haggard eyes blink once, twice, then no more.

"You're sharp. But I'd like the wall behind you to conduct our sessions from now on."

The other man does not answer, so Riddler picks up his slack.

"How exactly did I get here without waking up?"

The man lets out a deep breath, rustling his fake beard.

"It's a technique I learned from yetis in the Himalayas: The unstoppable lullaby."

The Riddler leans his head on his left hand.

"Have you always been this insane?"

Dr. Coverunder stares into nothingness, remembering harsh days and fluffy furs.

"I had to go through hell to learn it. I failed and fell so many times. Which is nothing to laugh at when you're in the cold, unforgiving mountains, where death is always on a sailor's horizon…"

The Riddler shakes his head.

"This is some horrible joke, isn't it? Isn't it? It has to be."

The unconvincing doctor's head snaps up, eyes wide and bloodshot.

"If I make you uncomfortable, you can leave at any time."

It pains him to fall for it, but he simply cannot stay any longer in that room. As the doctor starts to crawl over the table on all fours, Edward runs out the open door. Those eyes are just too friendly, in a bad way.

He races down the dark and deserted hallway. But the good doctor pops smiling out of the floor ahead, halting his progress. There are two, bright balloons in his hand. Edward screams and runs the other way, only to bump into the doctor, who is now holding a pair of crayons and smiling. Smiling. And smiling. Smiling, smiling.

Edward whimpers and races back the other way. There is a loud crash and in the broken window appears the doctor, crouching with a shard of glass sticking out of his arm, a familiar cowl on his head.

"Hahahahaha! Didn't mean to scare you, Edward," the madman laughs madly.

He runs down yet another corridor, sweating profusely.

"Someone please help me! He's insane!"

But no one comes to help, for his screams sound just like the morning announcements, word for word.

"You need to let go of your fears, Edward," comes a voice from behind the corner. "So hurry up! Come. And..." the Batman bursts into view, riding a tricycle. "Plaaaaaay."

The Riddler further abandons dignity and runs shrieking away. He storms into a dark room, flips the switch. And promptly dies a little inside.

"What's cold, unmoving and creepy? Everyone in here."

He takes a hesitant step inside, his lonely footstep echoing harshly.

"Ugh, he'll do something absolutely heinous, I just know it."

Lady luck has seen fit to make him run into the morgue. Life could not possibly more perfect.

But beggars can't be choosers. The Riddler runs over to a trashcan in the corner, opens it. He then rolls out one of the storage slabs.

"Heave-ho, old fellow!"

He chucks the cold codger into the trashcan, although a few parts of him, such as his entire body, still stick out. The Riddler then snuggles up and slides onto the cold slab, sliding it in and drenching himself in darkness, giggling at his own brilliance.

From outside he can hear the doors open.

"Heeeeeere's Batman!"

The Riddler bites his nails in anticipation. He can hear the Batman's heavy footsteps echo in the room outside. Riddler smiles broadly, showing quite a lot of teeth, and holds a hand in front of his mouth, trying to keep from snickering. He is so smart.

But suddenly his hideout is wheeled out and a loud, happy squeal assaults his ears.

"Pillow fight!"

A body-bag smacks into the Riddler's face. He sputters, indignant. Then both men giggle and let go of their inhibitions, worries and woes, quickly engaging in a fierce battle of harmless body-bag fun. Their spirited shouts soon wake everyone in the room and the game turns to an all-out brawl.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere, it rains both in the real world and in the minds of men. At the entrance are gathered a group of guards and a single patient. The atmosphere is somber. There are tears in quite a few faces, confusion in one.<p>

"Well, it's time to go out in the wild, little buddy," sniffs the head guard.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," murmurs the madman.

One of the guards starts bawling. Another pats the patient reassuringly on the back.

"Go! It's time to leave home and go out into the world!"

The patient scrambles out into the rain, confused.

"Go get 'em, tiger! Make us proud."

The patient turns around, starts running back to them. But they show harsh love and shoo him away. Soon he is running away, towards the city. In only a moment he has disappeared in the pouring rain.

"They grow up so fast!"

The head guard can hold back his pain no longer, tears sliding down his face. The others all gather for a hug.

"There, there, Seth. There, there."

The air is thick with manly tears and manlier feelings.

* * *

><p>Later that night things have calmed down in the morgue. The Batman glances at the clock, sees it is time for bed.<p>

"Well, friends, it's been a heavenly night. But it's time to go to sleep."

The Riddler and the rest whine petulantly. But the Batman will brook no protest. He breaks out the lullaby to end all lullabies. His warm, gravelly voice caresses the air, walls and the ears of his friends.

"Na…na….na…na…na…na …Bat…man."

Eyelids droop and smiles turn drowsy.

"Na…na…na…na…na…na…Baaaat…maaaan."

Everyone falls asleep and the morgue is quiet once more. Batman picks up the napping Riddler and carries him out of the cold, dark place.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope the moral of the story is apparent to all.<p> 


	6. Mars in Furs

AN: Time to tussle with the meaning of life and the nature of reality. Neither of which is to be found here, by the way.

_If the world gets too caught up in staring into the sky, show it the beauty of the gutter._

* * *

><p>Finally Dick is done with his dancing duties, and in several short moments he is at the dark gates of Arkham. He enters whistling. There seem to be no guards at all or anything resembling any sort of security, apart from a rather vicious looking badger in the lounge. Dick pays it no heed and sets off down the hall. Within one minute and four seconds he comes across an inmate.<p>

"What are you doing out of your cell?"

The man looks up, most of his face filled out by uncomfortably wide eyes.

"I am reading a book."

The man's eyes widen further.

"Oh," mutters brave Nightwing.

The eyes are making him feel weird. They seem to be able to reflect him perfectly, as if he were standing in front of a full body mirror. Dick feels like he's sinking into them. The stranger goes on.

"In this chapter, a throwaway character is reading a book. He is reading a book about a man reading a book. The man in that book is reading about a man who is reading a book about a man who is writing you."

Dick falls to the floor, clutching his head. He tries not to let on that he's feeling uncomfortable and carries on conversing flippantly.

"Kay. But have you seen Batman anywhere?"

The ridiculous eyes blink, giving Dick the moment's respite he needs to pick himself up off the floor.

"That's two chapters away. Come back in ten minutes and ask me. Although I already know you won't. I'm everywhere, you see. I was then, I am now, and I will be again. Happy, happy and happy."

Dick raises his arm, hopes the Clock King doesn't notice the fact he has no wrist watch.

"Gee, look at the time!"

"I am looking at it."

Dick smiles awkwardly.

"Gotta go."

He skips off down the hallway.

"I will see you again," comes the weirdo's voice. "Some sunny day. Everything moves in circles."

Dick guffaws. How preposterous.

* * *

><p>Further down the rabbit hole he comes across a man in bandages. He chucks a first aid kit the man's way, uttering the customary "Begone, beggar."<p>

But the beggar does not hasten to depart. Instead he strikes a dramatic pose.

"It is I, the man who knows the Batman's true identity!"

Dick gasps.

"Hugo Strange!"

"No!"

Dick stares at the man, trying to figure out this baffling mystery.

"I'm someone from his past, an old acquaintance that makes my turn to villainy all the more dramatic!"

Dick gasps.

"Black Mask!"

"No! No! No!"

Dick stares at the man and the dull wall behind him.

"With my abilities, I can look like anyone!"

Dick is tired of gasping.

"Clayface? Jane Doe?"

"My master plan played all the other villains as if they were pawns, bringing Batman over the edge!"

"Ra's al Ghul? Bane?"

The man clenches his fists.

"I'm philosophical! I speak in quotes!"

"I got nothing."

There is an awkward silence as the man grinds his teeth. Then he seemingly loses his patience.

"Hush!"

"I didn't say anything."

"Aaaargh!"

The man screams and runs in circles. Dick is confused.

"Are you okay?"

The man strikes another dramatic pose, hands outstretched and fingers clutching the empty air.

"I've had it. Here comes my ultimate power: The devastating plot-hole generator!"

Dick is taken aback but quickly decides to react.

"Oh yeah? Well, my plot-armor will protect me!"

There is a long, slightly uncomfortable moment as the villain grinds his teeth and perspires.

"Any moment now."

"…"

Many moments pass, but not a one is this mystical "Any moment". Try as he will, Hush cannot poke any holes in the plot. For, unbeknown to him, the plot is just one gaping abyss to begin with.

"Damn, it's not working. See ya!"

The man runs away like a fiend. Dick ponders stopping him, but decides the guy isn't feeling up to it.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere, deep down in the cesspool of crime and corruption sometimes mistaken for a city, Cassandra Cain is fighting some thugs. Or she would be, if they weren't so busy being friendly. She looks at the happy mugs of the mobsters, confusion thick in her bones. She has never seen such utterly relaxed body language. It is frankly quite disturbing. One of the mobsters raises a hand and she looks on, puzzled, as he thrusts a bouquet of flowers at her.<p>

"There is no crime, only sunshine," says the sleazy scumbag, a slimy smile on his face.

She knocks them out and handcuffs them. She radios Alfred but from his end there is nothing to be heard but him crooning his favorite song: _Forever Young_.

But then a savior swoops out of the night. On a far away rooftop, Batgirl can see Catwoman racing along. She lets out a relieved sigh as she leaves the confusion of life and enters the normalcy of rooftop chases and costumed battles.

* * *

><p>Catwoman is innocently escaping with some jewels, like every other Thursday, when suddenly! A bright flash of unspeakable terror halts her progress. She peers into the unbearable light.<p>

"What the hell are you wearing?"

There is a rustle of flamboyant clothing. The colors slowly subside.

"I was wearing the colors of joy. But now," the brightness fades completely, "I am wearing black."

She stares at him. He's acting much too weird for the usual flirting and she can't really remember any other way to deal with him. Maybe punching him would be good. But this idea, too, is smothered as he sways his hips with a flash of bedroom eyes and a sultry smile. She can't help but flush with embarrassment.

"And now…I am wearing nothing."

It is as he says. Catwoman gasps, gapes and stares, dumbfounded.

"What the hell is happening?"

He saunters closer to her, shivers slightly in the cold. He leans his back into her, wraps her arms around his chest and rests his head on her shoulder, sighing. She twitches, stares straight forward, eyes unseeing.

"Do you feel it, Selina? My heart beats only for you. And a few others."

Her jaw moves up and down, tiny little sounds coming out.

"I…I…what?"

He tears himself from her, even if she shows no resistance to his leaving. He stares dramatically into the darkness, strong emotions evident on his face and in the clenching of his manly buttocks.

"But there are many obstacles to our love. We come from two different worlds."

He chokes down a sob. She stares.

"Eh? What?"

He turns back around and sways over to her. He's so close she could count every single hair on his chest. She does so, just to occupy her mind.

"I can't change my life for you Selina, no matter how much my weak, masculine heart may wish so."

Her breath comes out thick and heavy. She utters an empty threat.

"Scarecrow? Are you poisoning me again? Yes, that must be it. If you can hear me, straw-man, you're dead."

But even a refreshing death-threat comes out hollow and unsure. This is all so very wrong.

"We must test our love, Selina. It's time to swap roles."

Suddenly the Batman changes gender, becoming a curvy lady in tight leather, pure fetish fuel from head to toe. Catwoman can only blink, not at all seductively.

"W-what?"

Bruce blinks, her long, smooth eyelashes working their hypnotic mojo on the hapless cat-burglar.

"Come, love, let us engage in a fetishistic battle of whips."

Selina can vaguely hear someone laughing. She tries to stay focused and forces herself to speak.

"Whaaaaat?"

Bruce unfurls a wicked looking whip, his womanly body exuding taboo and sexuality. As the hollow laughter continues, Selina realizes it's hers.

"And now for the final touch," comes Bruce's silky smooth voice, sending goosebumps all along Selina's body.

She feels her mind expanding. Or breaking, it's all in the eye of the beholder. Bruce's whip lashes against her and she feels a strange magic flow through her body, the laughter in the air turns deep. A look down reveals a chiseled body, overflowing with masculine features. Bruce jumps into Selina's arms, smiles warmly at his beloved. Out of nowhere appears a rather dubious priest, who instantly begins babbling.

"By the power invested in me by the state of Nevada…"

Thirty minutes later the male Catwoman carries her blushing bride, the Batman, over the threshold of a luxurious suite. There is a raucous applause from an unknown origin. It is apparent to most, if not all, that this is indeed a wonderful life.

* * *

><p>AN: What a twist!<p> 


	7. Of Cats and Men

AN: Onwards, intrepid friends. Some undeniable truth of life is no doubt just around the corner.

_When falling to your doom, smirk and pretend it's all part of the plan._

* * *

><p>In the darkness of one of the poverty stricken areas of Gotham, a cat known only as Captain Snuffles is keeping watch over his street. An evil smile plays upon his lips as he watches the cars hiss by, none of them brave enough to stop and challenge his authority. But his moment of glory is soon snatched away as a crime-fighter comes strolling down the street. The captain frowns as he watches the glory hogger enter a shady building.<p>

Dick sneaks sneakily and soon finds his prey. But it becomes immediately apparent that she has already fallen to the mysterious happiness that plagues the city. He strolls into the room and pats her on the head.

"Guess they got you too, Harley."

She doesn't move, but stops playing, her little ponies still in the air as stares at him.

"Don't suppose you can tell me what happened?" Dick goes on.

She bites her lip with a confused air.

"Do you want to go home to Arkham?"

The answer is delivered in the form of a mallet to his face.

* * *

><p>He comes to slowly, hot, throbbing pain in his head. He grunts sensually.<p>

"What the hell d'ya think yer doin', bargin' in on people when they're havin' a personal moment with their ponies? Weirdo."

He tries to move, realizes he's stuck in an insanely complicated bondage apparatus. He bites down hard on his lip as orgasmic shivers wrack his body.

"Uh…Wh-Where's Joker, Harley? Is he behind this?"

His voice hopefully sounds distressed or heroic or angry. No-one can know about his secret. Harley stares at him, murder and madness in her eyes. The milkman drops by with a flask, murder and madness in his eyes. Harley shoos him out and turns back to Nightwing, who stares confused.

"Night-time milk delivery?"

"Don't judge me."

Harley gulps down the liquid healthiness.

"But nope, Mistah J's innocent. Puddin' went sunbathing on a tropical island with Lex a week ago and hasn't returned."

There is an awkward silence.

"Oh," Dick breaks it.

"So," Harley steers the conversation elsewhere, "you gonna twist out of that or not?"

Dick sighs.

"Well, I guess. Was sort of hoping someone would save me and scoop me up in their arms, but there's probably no one coming this time."

Harley shrugs.

"Oh, well. How about I turn off the death-gizmo and you just stay there for a while? I'm not feeling so motivated myself right now. I'm sure someone'll come save that cute bun of yours."

He sighs in a soft, manly way.

"Thanks, Harley. Think I might like that."

They speak of many things as the night progresses. Throughout their conversation, Harley repeatedly insists Batman delivers a fierce hug and can really rock a wedding dress. Dick decides not to pry.

* * *

><p>Later that night Nightwing is standing in the cave, conferring with Batgirl. The latter points to his bruised wrists with a questioning look.<p>

"It's nothing," Dick replies with a blush, biting down on his lip.

Cass raises an eyebrow at the questionable behavior of her fellow hero. His love for bondage is going to end badly one day. She decides not to pursue the subject and instead opts for addressing the matter of the mysterious, reality-warping, gender-bending Batman.

"Batman acting weird."

Dick ups the ante and raises both eyebrows.

"Really? How so?"

With a loud poof Batman bursts onto the scene. By his side stands Catwoman, wearing a swanky tux. On her hand gleams a gorgeous ring, which she proceeds to bro-fist into Batman's matching one. But whereas Catwoman is wearing a swanky tux, Batman is…Dear god.

Dick gapes. Batman is wearing an absolutely stunning white dress, so bright that it is hard to look at for too long. And it makes it look like his smooth, shaved legs go on forever.

"Holy ball-gag, Batman! That's the hottest dress you've ever worn!"

Bruce gives it a twirl, divine fabric caressing the air.

"Damn right it is."

Selina smiles and nods her head in snazzy agreement, sunglasses glinting.

"See? Batman…weird."

Dick looks down at Cass as if she had just gone inexplicably evil and almost killed Supergirl. Alfred gives a similarly disapproving look.

"Geez, Cass, lay off it. There's nothing weird about wearing a dress. Especially not when you rock it like that."

She shakes her head.

"No. Everything weird. Body language not the same."

He smiles incredulously.

"Well, of course. He's just found and released his inner beauty. A change in posture to be expected."

"But…"

"Shush, Cass."

Bruce claps his hands.

"Attention! We're going to an art gallery. Ready?"

Dick gives the thumbs up, Selina nods her head smoothly in tune to some incredibly slick tune only she can hear, and Cass stands motionless. Bruce smiles as they sink into the floor.

* * *

><p>A moment later they are rising out of the floor of the art gallery. Dick is slightly perplexed, he must admit, but he's seen stranger things in his life. Cass looks uncomfortable.<p>

"Welcome, welcome! Hrrrmm."

The Penguin stands before them, hospitable, amiable and huggable. His monocle glints in the light of Bruce's dress.

"Please, inspect the artwork at your leisure, hrrrmm. Hurry is the bane of beauty."

The quartet moves along slowly. Dick gazes at the paintings lining the walls. They're all rather perfect. The pencils are simply amazing.

"It almost feels like you're really in the sewers," Bruce murmurs, awe apparent in his voice.

It's true. The sewer really comes to life in the paintings before them.

"Non, non, ma chère," he can hear the Penguin's nasally voice from beside him. "You're doing it all wrong. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and likewise fragrance," he pushes Batgirl's face into the painting, "is in the nostril of the bescenter."

Cass sniffs once, then retreats retching. Dick looks around, noticing something for the first time.

"Where's Alfred?"

A shadow passes over Bruce's face.

"Alfred doesn't like art."

There is a thick silence as Bruce's eyes bulge and his jaw clenches. Selina pats him on the back with a lecherous smile.

"Don't worry, buttercup. It's okay. I'm here."

Bruce is all smiles.

"Oh, look, dear! Isn't this one precious?" Bruce's sweet voice whispers loudly into Selina's ear. She smiles.

Dick focuses on the painting. It's a painting of the Penguin. There's something very familiar about it.

"I wonder why he's smiling?"

Bruce looks over at the Penguin, who coughs.

"Hrrmm, why not ask the artist himself?"

A giant with scaled skin and a artistic hat on his head appears next to them.

"Why is he smiling, Waylon?"

Killer Croc gives an inscrutable smile of his own. Bruce sighs in appreciation. Selina smiles and claps her hands twice, softly. Penguin stares at the artist's dark scales and lust flashes in his eyes.

"So…talented."

Dick falls trembling to the floor. The Penguin's gaze flies over to him.

"Ye gods! Is that a bird with a broken wing I spy?"

Dick shakes his head, tries to stand up.

"Forsooth! Indeed it would seem so, dear fellow," says Croc, munching on a pipe.

Penguin leans down over the fallen Nightwing.

"Here is an ointment, to reduce the pain. It's good."

"It's good," agrees Croc.

"It's goooood," adds the Penguin.

Bruce sighs at the saintly behavior, leans into Selina's embrace and sings a little: "Got me so crazy in love."

Selina smiles, her pale skin smooth as her attitude as she nods coolly.

"Hey, Bruce?" Dick starts. "When did you get so fabulous?"

Bruce sighs.

"That's a long story. It involves plenty of straw, Bane and a camel. I'll tell you about it later."

* * *

><p>AN: There is probably an end in sight.<p> 


	8. The Beauty With No Back

AN: The story rages on.

_Smile at the world and the world might smile back. If it does not, twist its arm till it does._

* * *

><p>It is night. The master bed of Wayne Manor trembles. Two bodies move in perfect harmony, poetry in motion. This is love. This is man and woman.<p>

Bruce shakes, Selina rattles. The former awake, the latter asleep. His mouth loud noises makes, her consciousness battles. Love has its downsides: Selina's head snaps back and forth as Bruce shakes her.

Finally she wakes up, eyes slow and calculating.

"What?"

His eyes are wider than any saucer.

"I had a nightmare."

Her eyes narrow even further.

"And?"

He pouts and blinks in confusion and hurt.

"I just thought you should know."

Snake-like slits peer at him, the cat's disinterested glare judging him.

"Speak."

He breathes shakily.

"Oh, it was horrible. I dreamt that…ugh. In my dream someone was…unhappy."

She stares with lidded eyes.

"Hmm."

He gesticulates wildly, flailing like an interpretive dancer.

"So I tried to hug them, but my arms just weren't big enough. No matter how I stretched I couldn't reach all the way around them, couldn't take the pain away. My hug was…not enough."

She closes one eye, lazily raises one hand and gestures for him to come closer. He scoots over and her arm clamps down. She spoons him, all power and strength. Her eyes slowly close, the world spared further injury at the hands of her cold gaze.

"You're doing it all wrong, Selina. You're supposed to be warm and comforting."

Her arm clutches tighter and he sighs, a peaceful smile gracing his grim, righteous face. His eyes close slowly, drenching his face in utter calm. He stops just short of purring.

Then his eyes pop open again. He has forgotten something.

* * *

><p>Cass sneaks into Dick's bedroom, quiet as the cat, graceful as the gorilla. Her target lies in his bed, sleeping. No, she realizes on closer inspection. Pretending to sleep. She prods him.<p>

"Dick."

He tries to emulate the breath of someone slowly coming to. There is movement beneath the sheets. The window is open, letting the cold in. Fearful that Clayface has yet again infiltrated the manor and attempted to pose as Martha Wayne, Cass rips off the sheets. Only to find something just as awkward.

"You sleep like this?"

Dick is wrapped up in all sorts of devilish constraints, his body propped up in a provocative pose. He has gotten loose from a handful, but there are still heaps to go.

"No! No, it was… It was Man-Bat."

Her eyebrows rise of their own accord.

"Man-Bat did…"

She goes no further, merely gestures at the nipple-clamps.

"Yes! Yes, he did. He also stole my underwear drawer."

She looks in the direction he's nodding. There is indeed a drawer missing. She looks back at the open window, puzzled.

"Oh."

Dick is mostly loose now.

"And I didn't break loose because I didn't want to give away our secret, in case Man-Bat was still out there, watching."

She peers out into the darkness, shudders as a look of horror forces itself onto her face.

"Oh."

Dick stands up, stashes the bondage gear into an evidence drawer. Cass is amazed at his dedication.

"But I'm sure he's gone now. What did you want to talk about?"

He walks over to the closet and opens it, searches for more suitable clothes than his flashy underwear, which bears the text "Been there, done that" on the left cheek. Cass tries not to stare.

"Batman. I'm still confused."

Dick picks out a bathrobe, but Bruce is already in it.

"Hey, kids," he says as he dangles along with the bathrobe on the hanger in Dick's hand.

Said kids let out subdued squeals of utter terror. Batman's dark growl continues.

"I have this burning desire raging through my supple body: I ship myself with pretty much everyone these days."

They both gape. Bruce's eyes widen.

"Oops, didn't mean to say that to you."

The silence is deafening. Bruce pats Dick's hand, which finally releases him. He trots over to Dick's bed, opens a hidden safe in the wall and conjures up a hookah.

"Gather round, kids."

The young duo have a few puffs, the justice-flavored smoke calming their minds.

"What I really wanted to tell you was to stay in your rooms tonight."

There is a crack of thunder. They all pose dramatically, then grimly remember they're not in uniform. Sheepish smiles are passed around.

"Hang on, Bruce. I'm gonna go for a glass of milk."

Bruce ponders for a moment.

"Okay."

Dick happily hops down the stairs and into the kitchen, showing off his incredible agility on the way. He pops open the fridge.

"Hhhhhhhh."

He wonders what that strange sound was as he guzzles down the healthy drink, flexing just in case there's someone watching. Then he sees the source.

"Oh, hey, Alfred."

The old man is standing upside down on the ceiling. There's something unusual about the way Alfred stares at him with bloodshot eyes and bares his gaping mouth, but Dick can't quite put his finger on it.

"G'night, Alfred."

He cartwheels out of the room and up the stairs. Alfred seems to be accompanying him, running along the ceiling and smiling down at him with sharp, sharp teeth.

"Hhhhhhhhhh."

Dick pops into his room and closes the door. Alfred scratches at it for a bit, then seemingly goes away. The old man is apparently in a jolly mood tonight.

"Now, I don't want you to go outside your rooms tonight," Bruce picks up where he left off.

Dick raises a hand.

"But why, Bruce?"

Bruce smiles sheepishly.

"I meant to tell you before, but I completely forgot about it, what with the wedding and all."

Dick pats him on the back, feels some whip-marks he decides not to comment on, and stares into his eyes with profound and sincere understanding.

"It's completely understandable. Don't worry about it."

Cass sighs at the touching scene, but can't help interrupting it.

"Forgot what?"

Bruce snaps back into focus.

"Yes, right. Well, thing is, Alfred needs to feed sometime soon."

Dick exhales, a beautiful pair of fuzzy handcuffs appearing in the smoke.

"Feed?" Cass asks, only slightly entranced by the smoke attaching itself to Dick's wrists.

Bruce nods.

"It's that time of year again."

Dick is puzzled, even if he can't quite take his eyes off the smoke.

"What does he feed on?"

Bruce smiles incredulously.

"I can't believe you've forgotten how Alfred prolongs his unholy existence."

Cass and Dick share a confused look, then speak in chorus.

"What?"

Bruce stares at them, confused.

"He needs human blood, of course! Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

Dick blinks.

"What?"

Bruce stares.

"Didn't you think it was mysterious, how he never aged a day throughout my whole career? We've celebrated his "75th" birthday fifteen times now."

Dick coughs.

"So he needs to drink someone's blood once a year? Isn't that sort of…wrong?"

Bruce waves one hand dismissively.

"Don't worry, it's not fatal, I think."

"…"

"And if anyone does die I'll just make him bring them back as undead."

"…"

"I'll release him in the woods tomorrow night. Problem solved."

They share a few more puffs as they ponder this development. Cass whispers as a flurry of fists appears in the smoke she exhales.

"Anything else?"

Bruce scratches his chin.

"Well, I'm not really sure, but I think maybe Scarecrow turns into a zombie on the night of a full moon."

Dick scratches Bruce's chin.

"That's not how zombies work," he mumbles.

Dick tries to scratch Cass' chin as well, but gets pushed away.

"Didn't know you were an expert," Bruce says, scowling.

Bruce gets Cass' nose. Dick pouts.

"Fair enough. Anything else?"

Cass frowns, ruffles Dick's hair. Bruce smiles.

"Hmm, yes. Selina's a were-cat, gets a bit weird every now and then. You can tell by her eyes if she's dangerous or not."

The trio make ridiculous faces at each other. Dick's ridiculous face looks questioning.

"She does wear sunglasses a lot. So how can we tell?"

The world's greatest detective narrows his eyes.

"I don't know. If only there were someone else who knew. Then I could beat them up and find out."

Dick gapes in awe at the incredible workings of the man's mind. So blunt, yet so incisive.

"For now, just stay out of her way."

Bruce exhales, his smoke cloud resembling a group of people dancing atop a rainbow.

"Well, I'm off to bed! Goodnight, gang."

Cass stares at him, suspicious.

"Safe with her?"

He doesn't even look back as he leisurely strides over to the wall and opens a secret door, revealing a hidden Bat-pole.

"Sure, sure," he mumbles as he artfully slides his body up and down, but mostly up, the pole.

* * *

><p>A few privately sensual moments later, Bruce is back in bed. He leans an elbow on his pillow and stares into his wife's eyes.<p>

"Hey, Selina."

She shows no sign of waking. He frowns.

"Selina."

His patience at an end, he whips out a technique he learned on the outskirts of the Sahara: The Desert Howl Raspberry. The noise is deafening.

"Heh, heh, heh," he congratulates himself as she stirs.

Feral eyes pop open and focus on him. He can feel his blood curdling.

"I've been thinking, Selina," he murmurs as he twirls a finger in his hair.

A hand shoots up and grabs his neck. She starts squeezing gently, just enough to make the average person stop speaking. But this is no ordinary person. The Batman employs the secret technique of the ancient dungeon-dwellers of Atlantis, rumored to be powerful enough to enable the user to deliver a speech of utter oratory brilliance through a ball-gag.

"About how we can spice up our love life."

She gives up on silencing him.

"Bruce. I'm tired."

He rolls onto her lap, blinking innocently up at her as he sends soft ripples through his manly rump.

"Have I been bad?"

Even while most of her body is asleep, the rest, along with her heart, can't help but be moved by his radiant beauty. She starts spanking him absentmindedly.

"I have this," his speech is interrupted by a smack, "burning desire," smack, "raging through," smack, "my supple body," smack.

The smacks slow down as Selina sleepily ponders his words.

"I ship myself with pretty much everyone these days," he whispers through clenched teeth.

She picks up the pace.

"I know what you mean."

Bruce smiles up at her.

"What do you think about polygamy, Selina?"

Her eyes turn even more feral, become overwhelmed by predatory instinct. Her voice is guttural, yet seductive.

"Romance."

She stands up, sending him tumbling to the floor.

"I ship this all so hard," she murmurs as she flings open the window.

There is a final bellow: "Romance!"

Then she is gone. Bruce stares out into the darkness and pouts.

"You're supposed to say something romantic and hesitant before coming to a decision. Not just jump out. Y'know?"

He leans his head on his hand with a smile, love shining in his eyes as he sighs happily.

* * *

><p>AN: Maybe this is too much information on Bruce's love life. Probably not.<p> 


	9. There Goes the Sun

AN: The bondage gag is really getting out of bounds.

_When feeling lonely, draw faces on the inanimate objects around you and converse._

* * *

><p>Ra's al Ghul wakes to a strange sensation in his temporary Gotham headquarters. The ages-old villain realizes calmly that there is an unfamiliar weight on his bed. Slightly opening one eye he can see a silhouette staring down at him. He smiles and prepares his usual "Ah, Detective" speech. But he is halted by the sensation of a hand rubbing his stomach.<p>

"Who's a fuzzy little guy?" Comes a beastly whisper from the stranger.

Various feelings battle within his breast: Rage, insult, confusion, an unfamiliar fluffy feeling. He tries to reach for his weapon, but finds his arms stretching into the air instead. He's never quite felt so comfortable, he realizes as his body stretches in an adorable manner. The hand keeps mercilessly rubbing his tummy. Gathering his senses, he raises his majestic voice to bellow out something regal and terrifying.

"Purr, purrr, purr," says he.

"Awwww," counters the stranger.

The rubbing hand is joined by another and Ra's al Ghul mewls at the mind-breaking comfort.

"Purrrr," he says, louder this time.

As he slowly sinks into the comforts of the petting he realizes with unclouded horror what is happening. He knows what this is. The thing the wise men of his youth whispered betwixt one another in jest. He slowly drifts back to sleep as expert fingers scratch behind his ear. There is no doubt about it, he hazily conjectures as an invitation is slipped under his pillow: He has fallen to the curse…Of the were-cat!

* * *

><p>Poison Ivy wakes slowly, unsure as to why.<p>

"Love and peace forever?" She whispers confusedly into the dark.

But as she peers out into the darkness, she sees not one of her followers awake. Scores of naked people sleep peacefully on the green ground. She can't help but feel warm sensations swimming around in her chest and elsewhere.

"Romance," comes a strange voice from directly above her.

She looks up swiftly. And finds herself smiling broadly, awash with intrigue at the sight of Catwoman dangling above her. She realizes with a flutter of her heart that she stands face to face with a love monster.

"Romance?" Repeats the creature above in a sensual whisper.

Ivy reaches out and strokes Selina's cheek.

"Yes, please."

The love monster descends and they share an upside down kiss. Ivy is impressed. She claps her hands in motions both fast and furious.

"Lovers! Awaken!"

Like clockwork the naked advocates of free love practiced in multitudes arise. With a quick wink and a few nudges, all realize what their goddess is getting at. The love goddess and the love monster are quickly surrounded by row upon row of impressively coordinated dancers. Romance is thick in the air. All over the world, a shudder passes through every person of sensitive taste.

Selina's movements are naught but sweet, slick smoothness, too stylish for words while Ivy's invoke the passion of life inherent in all beings, each small movement of her voluptuous body sending ripples through time and space.

* * *

><p>Harley wakes slowly, but quickly realizes her Joker plushie has grown considerably in size and exponentially raised its temperature. Opening her eye brings further revelations: The plushie now wears skin tight leather and looks like a beautiful, if frightfully cool, woman with cat-like ears on her mask. Harley closes her eyes with a calm sigh.<p>

Then promptly she wrenches them open once more. Pudding doesn't have cat-ears!

"Romance," says the intruder.

"Sleep," answers the owner.

A hand caresses her cheek softly.

"Romance?"

"Later," Harley replies with a resigned but slightly interested sigh.

The intruder leaves to make endless similar house-calls, delivering invitations and spreading love all over the place. And lo, it was beautiful.

* * *

><p>"He's collapsed! His puppets have been destroyed!"<p>

Such does indeed seem to be the case in the mob boss' headquarters, mister mobster. Woe is you.

The unnamed unfortunate's eyes glance around the room again. On the bed there is no one, on the floor there is no one, but in the windowsill rests a weary criminal with gray, receding hair. Broken puppets litter the floor, the bed, but the mobster is practically buried in them.

"This isn't creepy at all," another of the henchmen calmly declares as they stare at the various staring puppet heads on the floor, who all seem to be facing the doorway.

Suddenly a strange noise reaches the hardened criminals' ears. It seems to come from the adorable killer in the windowsill.

"Purr. Purr."

It is the sound of a middle-aged man purring, loudly yet demurely. The mobsters pass confused glances, but do not get quite so far as to word their worries, for their boss stirs. A hand flies out of the pile and poses dramatically. Then the fingers start snapping.

The mobsters realize with a horrified gasp that the mouth of one puppet has opened.

"Goys, goys, ain't life wonderful?"

They all scream in chorus, but the incredible teamwork breaks down there as they start trying to scream louder and prettier than the next man. As they carry on this intense competition they vaguely realize that all the puppets are moving, reassembling.

"Look ah, look ah, yonder! Look ah, look ah, yonder!" One of them finds himself declaring through guttural song.

The rest follow his gaze, not a one letting down their silver-screen worthy screams. On the sill there is further movement. Their boss is preparing to jump down to the floor, his theatrically posed body tells them. His second hand has joined in on the snapping. From nowhere in particular the sound of music reaches their ears. Arnold Wesker stares with unseeing eyes as he pops down to the floor. You can tell by the way he uses his walk he's a woman's man with no time to talk. They look the other way, notice the puppets have assumed positions hinting at choreographed dance. But the mobsters' heads snap right back up again, for no one can avert their eyes for too long when a god of the dance floor is among them.

"I asked a question, youse mugs," the puppets speak in a chorus. "Ain't life wonderful?"

The mobsters stop screaming. Wide eyes meet the unblinking gaze of the puppet.

"S-sure, goss. I mean boss."

Wesker's gentle feet tap softly against the wooden floor. He deftly glides over to them, closes the door with his heel. Then he grabs the nearest mobster and begins the dance. All around them the puppets are grooving like mad.

Quickly catching on, the mobster graced by Wesker's choice starts dancing, just in time for Wesker's dive. My, but the man is limber.

The mob boss lets loose with all he's got, amazing all with his skill at tango. The man's many folds seemingly become one in the fluid motion of his dancing body. A few moments and many blindingly fast moves later, the boss finally speaks.

"Au suivant!"

He changes dance partners, breaks out moves even more rad. Their polished, glinting shoes in the darkness are as the stars in the sky. Their eyes, twirling with emotion, are like some great current in a distant sea. The puppets don't really resemble much at all.

"Au suivant!"

Wesker changes again. This time he chooses Rhino, takes him by his lily white hands, takes him by his feet, and throws him up in the air. The flying man twirls, then lands gracefully back in the arms of the Ventriloquist. Rhino feels strange. Like a pregnant caterpillar with nowhere to go. But it's awright. The night is young.

"Au suivant!"

The boss continues to amaze them. What pace! What passion!

Dozens of tiny feet stomp on the floor, their noise enhanced by four pairs of human legs. All blend in perfect harmony as they worship the beauty of life, the very taste of romance and unfettered happiness. They dance, they sway.

How free their future! How muddled their minds! How extravagant their expression! And oh, how terrific their talent. Had time any kindness in its heart it would have stayed forever in that very moment. Alas! All it would do was slow down enough for one night to seem like three.

But even this tiny gift is appreciated by the gifted children of the dance floor. Their smiles shine with appreciation and beauty as they dance the night away.

* * *

><p>AN: A oft ignored part of Ventriloquist's character.<p> 


	10. Call No Man Happy Till He Lives

AN: Here we go again. The devil's hands are idle playthings. I didn't really go over this well enough, but somehow I have a feeling it doesn't matter too much.

_Happiness is like a wild boar: It must be wrestled into the ground with a smile._

* * *

><p>Bruce's haggard face tells all. He somberly hauls the coffin out of the trunk, drags it through the mud and halfway up the stairs.<p>

"It didn't take," he needlessly explains to those gathered.

The rain pours down, moodier than ever. Selina drops down from the sky, lands with a thud and poses atop the coffin.

"I'm back."

Dick peers at her.

"What exactly is it that Were-cats do?"

She shrugs.

"This and that."

Cass jots that down in a notebook.

"That's a pointless note," Dick mutters hatefully.

"You speak Navajo? No? Then quiet."

Dick blinks.

"What?"

A top hat appears on Cass' head, a monocle glinting fiercely on her cultured face.

"I speak of course of my past exploits, wherein I went evil for no reason, completely threw away all my characterization and started harassing people with hints delivered in Navajo."

The top hat disappears.

"Um. Okay?"

Dick is spared further confusion by Selina bodily throwing the coffin inside. Bruce whines.

"Selinaaaa, I told you to stop picking on Alfred. But more importantly, did you remember to drop the invitations?"

Selina rolls her eyes.

"Yes, yes."

He clasps his hands and fidgets nervously.

"You think they'll come?"

She sighs.

"Yes, yes."

"But what if they don't?"

He paces the floor. It looks like he might swoon soon. Selina expertly diffuses the situation by conjuring up the brightest, most magical treat anyone gathered has ever seen.

"Who wants… a… lollipop?"

Bruce's eyes widen to tragic proportions.

"Oh. My. God."

There is a short silence, broken only by the heavy rain. Bruce squeals.

"It matches my rainbow suit!"

Dick shudders at the unwanted memories flooding his mind, each more vivid than the last, all the bright colors conspiring to bring him down.

"Enough frivolous frolicking!" Booms out Batman's authoritative voice. "We need to prepare for the guests!"

They do that.

* * *

><p>The Riddler is the first to arrive, his hopeful yet dead eyes darting this way and that without ever moving.<p>

"I need attention! Shower me with it!"

The Hatter is next, even if he wasn't invited.

"Can't be late, can't be late."

As midnight rolls around, Scarecrow crawls out of an unmarked grave in the driveway and enters the manor.

"Let the crows pick me clean but for my hat."

Then comes Bane, flexing nervously and muttering to himself before emitting a resigned, hopelessly manly sigh.

"Que será, será."

Two-Face is next, each side trying hard to smile prettier than the other.

"Life is like two pieces of pie: One baked, one half-baked."

Ivy comes fashionably late, fashionably dressed in her birthday suit.

"Here I come, your beautiful world."

Last is Harley, who says nothing.

So the party/sleepover begins. As the guests linger in the hall, Dick is on broom duty. He dutifully swats away the bloodthirsty Alfred, who still clings to the ceiling like some bat out of hell.

"No, Alfred! You'll ruin Bruce's party!"

"Hhhhhh!"

"Shoo!"

Bruce doesn't even notice this slight disturbance as he jovially passes around the snacks.

"Thank you all so much for coming. I just know we're gonna have a great time. Ghost stories, embarrassing stories, some marshmallows, it's gonna be great. Oh, and strip poker. So maybe if you'd like to put something on, Ivy?"

She curls her lip.

"I hate games," she murmurs, voice hot and acidic.

The Riddler turns his head slowly.

"I love games," he answers, his voice cold and acidic.

Bruce grins as he nods his head. Looks like one of his favorite ships might be about to go down tonight.

"What's your favorite color?" He asks cheerfully.

"Green," they speak in a chorus, then look at each other again as if seeing for the first time how absolutely perfect for each other they are.

Ivy smiles predatorily.

"I didn't realize you resembled me so much."

Bruce grins wider.

"Sometimes he even has red hair."

Ivy's eyes narrow with desire.

"Really?"

Riddler nods, oblivious.

"Yes, sometimes that happens. I never give it much thought, though. I look good no matter how I look."

Bruce has to stifle a gleeful giggle as Ivy smiles wider, rather resembling a snake than a human at this point.

"We are alike in many ways, I see."

Riddler stares, confused.

"You, like all others, are nothing next to me."

Ivy's smile goes upside down, the frown rather resembling a piranha. Bruce claps his hands excitedly. Love and hate, the two biggest components of love. He lays his next trap.

"Popcorn?"

Both Riddler and Ivy reach for it at the same time, their hands touching awkwardly. Ivy tries to hide her disdain, Riddler is distracted by his own reflection in a mirror, which quickly breaks before the power of Bruce's smile.

On the other couch, the Scarecrow and Two-Face spare each other a glance. Bruce puts on his shipping goggles with a smile and an appreciative nod, signaling for the rest of his household to do the same.

"Okay, enough chit-chat. Let's go up to my room!"

No-one can resist Batman's iron will.

* * *

><p>"Now, before anyone asks, I just want to say: No, I don't find it weird to play strip poker with my adopted children."<p>

The villains exchange worried glances.

"I wasn't going to ask," Harvey's left side supplies.

"Me neither," says his other.

"I was going to. I find it very strange," the Hatter mutters into nothingness.

There are many stares, most of them incredulous.

"Well! Let's play," Bruce purrs.

Time passes. Or does it?

* * *

><p>"So," Bruce whispers huskily, "let's all talk about our weirdest fantasies and desires."<p>

Dick squirms. He doesn't really want to tell. More importantly, he really doesn't want to know.

"I am into femdom and exhibitionism, where I can be the center of attention," the Riddler explains without anyone in particular requesting this information.

Ivy starts grinning again.

"I am into everything," she claims with a sultry smile. "As long as I'm in control."

Harvey gives a peaceful smile.

"I like twins and sloppy se…"

"Do not want!" Dick interrupts rudely. "But doesn't the former make you the third man?"

Harvey's eyes bulge. It looks like he's about to throw up. His eyes bulge and they bulge until…Bane's muscles bulge bigger.

"I like manly men. And the breaking of said manly men. And the nursing back to health of said manly men. And manly feelings and manly muscles and manly love. Making manly love to manly men in a manly way. Manly..."

Bane's speech is stopped short by some mighty strange noises coming from outside the room. Bruce rolls his eyes.

"Oh, great. Now Alfred's consumed by the bloodlust."

They ignore the scratching, hissing and thumping. The game goes on and clothes come off, Harvey insisting on flipping every round to see if he will concede defeat. More and more of his peculiar skin is revealed. Cass' eyes widen more and more, her jaw goes slacker and slacker. Then suddenly, Harvey disappears.

"Where did Harvey go?" Bruce asks right away, his keen mind quick to notice the disappearance.

But nobody knows, except for Dick, who is too busy being jealous to reveal the answer, and Cass, who is too busy trying to overcome her longing.

"Where did Edward go?" Bruce asks, the former's disappearance registering within the detective's mind a mere five minutes after the occurrence.

"He went for a glass of milk," Dick mutters.

Bruce scratches his chin. This all seems familiar somehow. Something about circles?

"I think that old geezer is making out with Eddie," Harley announces as she comes back, having apparently been away.

Cass immediately stops her staring and assumes the foetal position. Dick helpfully passes the bleach.

"They're not," Bruce mutters grimly as he stares out into the hallway.

Cass glances up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Oh, wait, now they are."

Hope is, as always, immediately stamped out. Cass re-assumes her position.

"Alfred just killed Edward. I did not see that coming," Bruce growls quietly as he rests his chin on his fist.

They keep playing. The game goes slowly. Selina stares this way and that with eyes promising bloody murder, even though they are concealed behind sunglasses. But soon they are revealed, even if only for a second. That second leaves everyone shuddering in confusion, a hint of love added in there.

"Selina, honey, stop undressing the guests with your eyes. You're doing it wrong, anyway."

Selina's eyeballs let go of the Scarecrow's costume, which falls slowly and dramatically back to its original position.

"I'm scared," whispers the Scarecrow.

Within a moment, he disappears, along with Cass. Bruce peers this way and that, bewildered. Selina is smiling. Smiiiiiling.

"Such sharp teeth you have," mutters the Hatter without a stutter to the subject matter.

Ivy is smiling too, albeit in a more modest way. She taps her cards confidently, her leaf bikini still untouched by defeat.

"I can't help but think there used to be more of us. But I've always been bad with numbers," Bruce informs his guests, who pay him no attention.

The door bursts open.

"What's dead, green, smarter than anyone, and incredibly stylish?"

Bruce looks up.

"I have absolutely no idea."

The undead Riddler prances into the room and gets back in the game, blood smeared all over his mouth and neck. Dick coughs uncomfortably, Ivy's expressions flit from desire to confusion to repugnance, then back.

"Let's play, I guess," Harley mutters, then disappears.

Dick bites down on his lip, crosses his legs.

"Good evening," comes a new voice.

Alfred comes crawling in his Sunday best. Bane jumps out the window with a manly yelp, then wrestles Croc in the garden, both their clothes tearing off as they sweat. It is in no way erotic. Bruce coughs.

"It's good to have you back in the world of the semi-living, but you've gone too long without human contact. You're acting weird," Bruce helpfully removes the spotlight from the glistening, manly bodies in the garden.

Alfred's head falls limply backwards and his body contorts to the side, his eyes focused on the ceiling as blood drips from his fanged, frowning mouth.

"Poppycock, Master Bruce."

Dick blacks out.

* * *

><p>And wakes up in a warehouse, with Scarecrow looking down at him.<p>

"Did you like my happy gas?"

Dick rubs his eyes.

"Did all of that just happen? It was all a dream, right?"

The Scarecrow's mask blinks, somehow.

"All of what?"

Dick rubs his temples.

"Is Alfred a vampire?"

The Scarecrow's face seems to fill up Dick's vision.

"Are vampires Alfred?"

The villain then proceeds to rub Dick's shoulders.

"Whaaa?"

* * *

><p>Dick wakes up again, this time back at the poker game. Bruce looks worried. Dick waves them away.<p>

"I was just realizing everything is circular."

Bruce pouts in sympathy.

"Ah, that thing. Annoying, isn't it? Well, I hope you're feeling straight now."

Dick smiles.

"You bet your sweet a…"

He gets no further, for Cass' actions above him grab his attention.

"I don't know what's happening," comes Harvey's muffled voice from his bondage on the ceiling.

Cass stares mesmerized at his crisp, crisp skin. "Mmmm, bacon," she whispers.

"But I like it," he mutters as she strokes his cheek with a zucchini. Peanut butter covers the good side of his face, broccoli graces his socks.

Dick looks away. Unfortunately, his eyes fall on Selina, who is now smiling even wider. It borders on the disgusting. Dick looks away once more, his eyes falling on the Riddler this time.

"Why is he still fully clothed?"

The Riddler's eyes stare back at Dick. Instead of pupils there are the never-ending hallways of a labyrinth looking out, trying to suck them all in.

"Because I am better than you," he informs them coldly, with only a hint of eroticism.

There is a flash, furious and possibly feline, and the Riddler's hair swooshes back. His face reveals slight puzzlement and annoyance. Then his clothes come undone, falling to the floor in tatters.

"That's cheating," he coldly yet seductively informs them and covers up his secrets.

Harley disappears with a tiny "Eeep."

Dick bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Alfred tries to crawl over to him, but his body won't stop contorting. Dick manages to wipe away the blood before the bumbling butler can come any closer. Bruce giggles.

"Oh, no! Soon my family jewels will be revealed to the world!"

The Mad Hatter stares at him.

"I thought your parents were dead."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Dick is there. He tears them into pieces, chokes them down as he forces them onto the floor. The words sputter and wheeze but in a twinkling, all is over. Bruce smiles obliviously. The Hatter blushes, ponders how Dick would look in a blue dress.

"Keep going!" Selina shouts. The beast does howl and the beast does growl.

And lo! The guests are uncomfortable.

"Selina, honey, you're scaring the guests."

She shows no sign of stopping. She froths at the mouth, claws at Bruce's hair. Her sunglasses slip off, revealing disastrously sexy eyes. The dominatrix effect blasts everyone in the room but Alfred, because some things simply should not be.

"Oh, my," Ivy and Riddler sigh.

The Mad Hatter looks confusedly down at the leather costume that has materialized on his body. Hanging from the ceiling, Harley starts seeing green hair and charming smiles all over the place. Scarecrow's icy heart starts thawing and his annoyance at his bondage situation lessens, then turns into acceptance.

The situation is getting out of hand! Whatever will our intrepid heroes do?

Bruce shows his leadership qualities as he expertly assesses the situation and acts upon his impeccable instincts.

"Well, I sure am glad there are no burglars here. The family jewels are coming out, baby."

He whisks off his panties in one smooth motion, revealing…Another pair of panties! Made of solid gold! Plated with jewels fit for a crown! Sprinkled with rubies!

Selina's eyes widen, then narrow, then widen. She reels as if physically struck. Then, in an instant, the panties are off, vanished into thin air. Selina wears a dopey, slightly smug smile. So does Bruce. He addresses everyone and no-one.

"I can't but help think there is more to our future than just fighting. Have we ever tried…love?"

There were many winks and many nudges exchanged.

* * *

><p>AN: Too much or too little? I can never tell the two apart.<p> 


	11. Crime and Forgiveness

AN: I hope you're happy.

_Remember: Every time you do something naughty, kittens kill god._

* * *

><p>Dick wakes up slowly. His eyes get used to the sunlight slowly. He wonders if it was all a dream, slowly. Then he comes to know the smell of sausages and bacon. Slowly.<p>

"Don't mind, do you?"

It's Cass' voice. Dick looks down at his nubile body. His bondage nightwear has been replaced with various foodstuffs, mostly meat. It's nice and tight, if disgustingly greasy.

"Come into the garden, baby!"

Bruce's voice booms out from the garden like the voice of some divinity. Dick slips out of the greasy meat, changes underwear, then goes outside, Cass on his heels. The sun is shining, the flowers are chirping and the birds are blooming. There is a garden party in full swing. Clock King is at there, sitting in the sun with a cup of coffee. He waves to Dick, who clutches his ears and closes his eyes.

"Somebody shut him up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Cass pats him on the back and leads him further into the garden. The Clock King looks down with a frown. Dick opens his eyes and looks away, his eyes falling on Bruce.

"What are you doing?"

Bruce looks up. There's something off about him.

"I'm dancing."

Dick peers at him. Soothing, intoxicating music is playing.

"Where's that music coming from?"

Bruce smiles.

"From the depths of my heart."

He has two feet.

"Hmm," Dick murmurs.

One, two, three, four, five, six hands.

"What?"

One head, three eyes. Dick uses all his mental power.

"Have you…gotten a haircut?"

Bruce shakes his head, his foot-long earlobes jingling.

"Nope."

Dick gives up. Maybe Bruce has just grown on the inside or something spiritual like that. He looks over at Ivy.

"Why the hell do you have six arms? And what's up with that alluring dance?"

Ivy stops swaying and stares at him, then shrugs.

"Everyone's doing it."

"Hmm," Dick mutters.

He walks further into the garden, trips over two impossibly manly bodies.

"Oh, no," he groans as realization sinks in.

Two big, manly men, abounding with muscles, are lying naked in the grass.

"I don't…"

Even in their sleep, they keep wrestling. Dick starts trembling.

"Please! I can't…"

Their bodies are slick with sweat, nothing more. There is nothing else coating their grotesque, heavenly bodies. Dick falls back on his derriere.

"It's too much!"

Bane suckles sweetly on Croc's non-existent ear. In a manly way. Dick weeps, just a little bit.

"Aaaaaaah! Aaaaah! Aaaaah!"

The two manly men before him flex instinctively at the sound of hot, manly horror. The sight is not erotic in the least. In fact, nothing about them or their actions is erotic. Absolutely nothing at all. Anyone who even implies otherwise clearly has issues.

"Come!"

Dick is dragged to his feet by someone.

"Fluh! Gahblugbluh," he mutters thankfully.

He's dragged down to the lake.

"Best we wash all that sausage grease off ya."

Dick's eyes try to focus on the helpful stranger as his body is washed with the clean lake water. His savior is either Harley or the Penguin.

"Uhgubuh?"

But the unclear figure does not answer his question. There is something coming out of the lake. Or forming on its surface, to be more precise. Dick's eyes focus on it. It seems to be a face, about twenty feet wide, screaming noiselessly.

"Well, that's weird," either Penguin or Harley says as he or she leaves.

"Yeah, don't go into the lake. Not yet at least."

Dick follows the sound of this new voice, trudging through the bushes. Suddenly! A wild-eyed Batman appears in the tall grass!

"What are you doing way out here in the tall grass, Bruce?"

But Batman does not answer Dick's question. Instead he prepares for battle. When suddenly! Catwoman appears in the tall grass! She chucks a ball at Batman, which somehow absorbs him.

"Okay," Dick murmurs as he leaves.

In only a few minutes, Dick is back near the house, where all the guests are having joyous fun. Alone at a table for six, the Hatter sits with a cup of tea. He dips a finger into his tea, slurping it all up via osmosis. He is reading a book.

"What are you reading?"

Hatter shows him the cover. _The Nietzsche Coloring Book_. Dick leans over to peer at the page Hatter is reading. It shows a cute dog gazing into the abyss. Hatter's color are vivid and impressive, especially the rainbow colored abyss.

"Would you like some tea?" Asks the Hatter, perhaps embarrassed by the close scrutiny, or perhaps not.

There is quite a lot of tea around, Dick realizes. Floating in the air, flooding the grass. Dick frowns with concentration. Something about the tea is off.

"Hmm."

Defies gravity.

"Hmm," the Hatter humors him.

Flows endlessly.

"HMMMM," Dick intensifies his thinking.

The Hatter seems to be crying. Crying tea.

"HMMMMMMMMMM!" Hatter escalates things. His eyes pop out from the pressure of his thinking.

Tea pours forth from the now vacant sockets.

"Is that…new nail polish you're wearing?" Dick asks with a confused air.

Hatter picks one of his eyes off the ground, points it at his fingernails.

"No," he informs his new friend.

A head is chucked onto their table. It is Scarecrow.

"Hello," the unattached head whispers jovially.

Dick looks up and down and all around. The Scarecrow's body is playing cricket. Quite well, one might add.

"Greetings," the Hatter answers as he moves his mouth off of his face and onto the Scarecrow's forehead.

Ivy trots over to them, tears Hatter's mouth off of Scarecrow's forehead and slaps it onto the table, where it withers and dies.

"Come, my love. Let us walk."

"Yes," agrees the Scarecrow's head as Ivy removes the mask and picks the head up by the hair, some stray blood seeping out of the severed neck.

"I feel like a Munch painting," Dick laments. He does an impressive impression of The Scream.

The head and its lover go sit under the apple tree. Ivy strokes the head fondly.

"Oh! Oh, my love! Let us waltz!"

They waltz a little in the shade, even if the head cannot do much. Scarecrow makes up for it by having his body dance, shaking his surprisingly bountiful booty like a man possessed. Then they make out. But the Scarecrow seems hesitant. Before Ivy's hurt eyes, he explains.

"It's just that…you're nowhere near as good as me at cricket."

Ivy's head is pushed off her body by some vines coming from her throat.

"Oh yeah?"

Her body leaves to play. The two heads are left with some difficulty making out.

"Help is here."

Selina appears in the tall grass, then quickly jumps over to give them a hand. The two heads dangle in her hands, dangerously close. They strain to reach each other, but cannot. Their tongues stretch as well, but still they cannot show their love.

"Clother, Thelina, clother."

Selina obeys with a toothy smile, her eyes beaming with joy. The two lovers unite. It is beautiful. Selina sighs, as does the ground itself. Ah, young, decapitated love.

Elsewhere, Bruce stops role-playing and materializes by Dick's side. Dick wastes no time.

"How can Alfred and Riddler be out in the sunshine?"

Bruce winks.

"Look closer."

On closer inspection, they're…sparkling?

"Oh, god damn it."

"Closer!"

On even closer inspection, the sparkles seem to be completely unrelated. Alfred is sizzling and his pants are slowly yet surely preparing for spontaneous combustion.

"Uh…are they gonna be alright?"

Bruce smiles.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just that Alfred really likes pain."

The sizzling hot Alfred reaches for the ground and grabs a trumpet, then sounds it. It can only mean one thing.

"A message from the heavens, Sir."

A booming voice comes from a strange, glowing cloud.

"In the…"

There is a short silence as the voice seems to realize Bruce glows way brighter. It sounds embarrassed as it continues.

"In the caterpillar's child you will find the truth."

Then it disappears. Dick glances over at the glowing man.

"What does it all mean, Bruce?"

He stares intensely at the ground.

"I…have no idea. And I don't care. But speaking of airplanes and landing, Joker will be home soon. Gotta go."

He vanishes.

* * *

><p>In some secret location where secret people secretly return from their secret holidays, the Joker admires his tanned reflection with a smile. Or he would be, if he were physically capable of tanning. There is a tear behind the clown's smile. And behind the tear is a smile. And behind that…it is best not to know.<p>

He walks out the door. On the ground before him lies a large gift-wrapped box. A sticker on it claims it is from Batman, in sparkling black ink.

The Joker is not confused. He is not dumbfounded. Standing still for a very long time while eying the thing with a slack jaw is all part of the plan. After an hour of this, he moves onto the next phase of his glorious, chaotic plan: He opens it. Out pops Batman.

"What the hell is that?"

The Joker is not confused. He is merely pointing out, one professional to another, that wearing a rainbow suit is a big no-no when it comes to broody crime-fighting.

"Your days of gloom are over, Joker!"

The Joker is still not confused.

"What?"

The two colorful men eye each other.

"We're gonna be the best of friends," the Batman's raspy voice informs him.

The Joker is not confused, damn it.

"Have you gone mad? Forgotten what I've done? Crowbars ring a bell, Batsy?"

Batman smiles sweetly.

"I forgive you."

The Joker twitches.

"I'm…the voice of reason?"

Some say the world ended in that moment. Others say that's unlikely.

Batman cracks his knuckles.

"I'm gonna forgive you so hard for all the people you've hurt."

The Joker blinks rapidly, completely on top of the situation.

"Um. Yes! Yes, let's fight."

The Batman punches the air with a "Hy-ah!"

The Joker blinks.

"You're pathetic."

But vibrations still come from Batman's fist, and before he knows it, Joker is trembling. The wind on his skin feels soooo good.

"The Sensual Fist. I learned it from an exotic dancer in Transylvania."

The Batman swoops down on his reeling enemy. He ruffles the Joker's hair, pets his chest, strokes the bare skin on his arms. The result is soon known, as the Joker tumbles to the ground, shivering and shaking in sensual and softcore ecstasy.

"You're a pretty nice guy, Batman," says the shivering and moaning thing on the ground.

Batman starts dancing. He sways and he sways, somewhat like a snake or an out-of-control fire-hose. He reaches out with a helping hand, a small offering in his palm.

"Would you like an apple?"

The Joker accepts, innocence in his eyes. He bites the apple. He bit the apple. He bit it. It he bit. Bit. Apple. He bit it. It went crunch. So did he. It went crunch, splat, slosh. Om-nom. Bit it.

"How does it taste?"

One moment becomes a thousand. The apple is good? The apple is god? The apple is a dog!

"How does it taste?"

The apple is erotic. The apple is round. Circle. In the sand? Formulas, soldier, blood. Waves. Apples? Man leaned down to kiss the moon, then drowned. Apples! Time is the apple. Apple is the world. Worlds?

"How does it taste?"

Apple. Bit it, bit it, bit it, bit it, bit, it. The apple. Apple bit him. Ohhhh. Apple is melting. The apple is dream? Dreams are apples. Dream is sin?

"How does it taste?"

The apple is whatever you want it to be.

"How does it taste?"

No! Nonononononono! No, hohoheh, nono.

"How does it taste?"

You are whatever the apple wants you to be.

"Mmmmmmm. Mmmm-mmm-mmmmm."

The Joker collapses from the orgasmic taste. The apple is good, alright.

* * *

><p>AN: Man, I hope the plot hasn't gone off the rails.<p> 


	12. We All Smile Down Here

AN: Wheels of the bus and all that jazz.

_If the world is a prison, become the warden, or one of the bars._

* * *

><p>Dick wakes up slowly to the sensation of potato salad blocking his nostrils. As he rises halfway up, his unknown assailant falls back. Dick peers at his attacker, a…big box covered in bacon?<p>

"What the hell is that?"

The unknown assailant slowly turns around and becomes known.

"Bacon fort," Cass mumbles awkwardly from within her box.

Dick cleans out his nasal passage with a casual air.

"Okay. I don't think that's how food fetishes work, though."

The face from within the bacon flashes with annoyance.

"You an expert?"

Dick quickly shakes his head no, blushing beet-red.

"Nice weather we're ha…"

Dick begins expertly guiding the conversation elsewhere, but is stopped by something rising out of a flower pot by the door. It is Ivy.

"We should all be more accepting of each other."

Her voice is as rain upon the leaves. It's pretty weird.

"You should not judge others, Dick," she continues, "Cassandra's feelings for foodstuffs are no different from your affinity for bond…"

"Shush! Shuuuuush! Like my affinity for Bond movies? Gee, Ivy, I guess you're right."

Dick expertly shuts down the conversation before his dark secret can be revealed. Ivy looks puzzled.

"But everyone knows."

Dick laughs incredulously.

"Ha! Ha! What are you, the Joker?"

Ivy looks saddened.

"Shucks, found out already?"

She removes her mask, revealing a clown's frowning face. As Dick and Cass stare slack-jawed, the rebuffed comedian trudges out. Bruce comes in, a skip in his step.

"It's time for time-travel. Who's coming?"

Cass quickly disappears into the shadows, only slightly hindered by her cumbersome bacon fort.

"Sure, Bruce, why not?"

Bruce slaps on a Batman mask, grabs Dick's hand, then does the time dance he learned at Princeton.

* * *

><p>They appear in a dark alleyway on a rainy night. Footsteps echo from further down the alley. A moment later three people slowly emerge from the darkness. A couple with a child. As a glorious pearl necklace glints in the broken light, realization dawns in Dick's mind.<p>

"Bruce, we can't be here."

Bruce doesn't listen, just steps forth with a smile, reaching into his coat. Dick stares at him in confusion, the rain ruining his hairdo.

"Bruce?"

KA-POW! KER-BLAMMO! Bruce gleefully guns down his parents.

"Bruce, what the hell?"

"Trolololol."

Bruce laughs uncontrollably.

"Bruce!"

His mentor's face turns to him, grim and righteous, yet smiling, and Dick is tempted to think all is well.

"Well, you know what they say about happiness," Bruce chuckles as he taps the warm gun against Dick's nose. Dick backs away, his jaw trembling.

"You just killed your own parents!"

Bruce's smile is very wide. So wide, in fact, that his face alone cannot contain it. The smile is forced to curve into thin air, the glinting teeth and moist lips looking awfully out of place removed from the confines of his flesh.

"Hahahahaha!"

Dick stares at him with horror.

"What the hell are you?"

Bruce or whatever the hell he or it is, steadies him/itself against the wall.

"Hahahahahahahahahaaha!"

"Where's the real Bruce?"

His eyes are wide and staring. For a moment he stops, catching his breath.

"Aaaaaahaaahahaaaahaaaaaa!"

He falls to the wet ground screaming, howling, his body writhing in the crimson pool leaking from his parents' slowly cooling bodies.

"AAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!"

The blood flows and the blood flows. The child keeps crying.

"HahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAA!

Dick faints, for dramatic reasons.

* * *

><p>Dick wakes up quickly to the sensation of potato salad blocking his airway.<p>

"AAAAAAH!"

"Bacon fort."

Dick stops screaming for a moment, looks at Cass with annoyance.

"I didn't ask. Oh, and: AAAAAAAH!"

Something rises from the flower pot. It is Ivy, or so it would seem.

"Whatever is the matter, lover?"

Her voice is as rain upon the leaves. You get used to it.

"Aaaaaah! Show us your real face!"

He jumps at her and claws at her face. But nothing happens, apart from some green blood leaking from the scratches. Ivy looks slightly ticked.

"Ooops," Dick murmurs apologetically. "But still, aaaaaah! Bruce just murdered his parents! He's not who we think he is!"

Ivy doesn't seem particularly perturbed. She walks over to the mirror, wipes away the blood coating her face.

"I feel sick," Dick whispers as he leans against the wall.

"Sea-sick?"

Dick glances over at Cass with confusion written in potato salad all over his face.

"What?"

"We are at sea," explains Ivy, still tending to her wounds.

The room does seem to be moving up and down.

"But we're in the manor."

"The manor-boat," Cass explains.

Dick rubs his eyes.

"Why not the Batboat?"

"What's wrong with BoatWayneManor?"

Bruce has appeared before him, his face only inches from Dick's.

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

Dick jumps back, points a shaking finger at his mentor.

"You killed your own parents!"

Bruce stares at him, his face showing nothing but hurt, disappointment, remnants of lust and a myriad of other feelings.

"Never mind that. What's wrong with WayneManorBoat?"

Dick waves away Bruce's worries.

"Nothing, nothing. Can we please talk about the murder of your parents now?"

Bruce scowls.

"If there's something wrong with WayneBoatManor, you can say it. I won't be mad."

Cass gets out of her bacon fort, pats Bruce on the back in a soothing manner. Bruce sighs.

"I just thought we could all go out to sea together, bob on the waves a bit, have a nice time, chase our dreams."

Dick's face is red with frustration.

"That's really sweet, but I want to know if I really just saw you gun down your parents, Bruce."

Bruce rolls his eyes.

"Fine, fine."

He plucks out his own eye, then Dick's.

"AAAAH!"

Dick clutches his face to stop the bleeding.

"Don't worry. Now I just…a-whoop!" Bruce flings the eyeballs at the wall. They go splat.

"Bruce, what the hell?"

Bruce shakes his head in disappointment.

"Focus. Look. I just sent our eyes back in time."

It is true. Dick can see the rainy alleyway, Bruce screeching with laughter and his own older time-traveling self swooning, in a pretty sexy way. He is indeed a delicate flower. But just as past-Dick hits the ground, Bruce's parents are instantly brought to life and sent tumbling into a rainbow-colored void above them, the corpses on the ground quickly replaced by fakes.

"Can't have a world without Batman, now can we?" Bruce says back in the BoatManor.

Dick's mind cracks a little. His eye reappears in its socket in the present.

"You did this…to yourself?"

Bruce laughs, joy and love gleaming in his eyes.

"I did now. And I saved my parents. Haha," he bows, "You can applaud now."

Dick does, hesitantly.

"But why did you shoot them?"

Bruce cracks a smile.

"They were death-piercing bullets, silly! Haha!"

Dick's mind breaks a little more.

"Hahahahahahahaha!"

Bruce's jovial, laughing face seems to be filling his vision, or growing larger.

"Hahahaha!"

His laughter is deep and friendly. Fatherly, as well. Maybe even a little bit motherly.

"Hahahahahahaha!"

Dick swoons, feels Cass' toned arms catch him. She may or may not be wearing a top hat.

"Hahahahaha!"

Bruce's jolly laughter serves as a lullaby as Dick fully leaves the waking world.

"HahahahahahahahaHAHA!"

* * *

><p>AN: I don't think this chapter requires any explanation.<p> 


	13. The Fast and the Forgettable

AN: The story flows smoothly, delicately.

_Open the window, inhale the toxic fumes, relax. All is well.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Dick trots happily along a sunny corridor, his mind heavy. He's not quite sure where he is, or if he's anywhere at all. His eyes fall upon the Mad Hatter, who is relaxing at a garden table.<p>

"Anything the matter?"

It takes Dick a moment to realize the Hatter is addressing him and not the ceiling.

"I'm just confused. The world feels really strange right now."

The Hatter raises his glass.

"The world is like this glass: Round, solid, but with a bottom."

Dick nods.

"I see. I never thought of it that way."

The Hatter's absentminded stare somewhat reminds Dick of a fish. A very wise fish.

"Thinking is good. Or bad."

Dick gapes and stares. It all makes so much sense now.

"Holy sanity! I can see it all so clearly now!"

The Hatter leans forward with a grin, puts a pretty blue ribbon in Dick's hair.

"Life is a circle. Full of bright colors. And mean things."

Dick blushes as the Hatter hands him a pretty dress, blushes even more as he puts it on.

"You're so wise. Like water. Yes. Just like the water in your glass."

The Hatter's eyes show nothing but unfathomable, abysmal depths.

"Let's swim around in life, Alice."

Dick blinks twice as he combs his long, blond hair.

"What?"

Hatter's eyes show nothing but unfathomable, abysmal, warm and comforting depths.

"Let's go run around in the sunshine."

They do that, galloping through the verdant fields surrounding Wayne Manor.

* * *

><p>Dick blinks twice and wakes up, either returning to or leaving reality, or neither. He is in the boat-manor which is just returning to the manor grounds. He realizes with great distress that his pretty ribbon and his pretty dress are no longer on him, or perhaps never were.<p>

"What's wrong?"

Bruce looks worried, but not overly so.

"Nothing, just…wanted to be pretty for a little while longer."

Bruce leans down and strokes his hair.

"Oh, my little bird, my pretty bird. You _are_ beautiful. Everyone can see it but you."

Dick tears up a little, in a manly way. So does Bruce.

"We're here!" Squeals a voice unknown to all. But it speaks the truth.

As soon as the raucous applause ends, Bruce uses his multitude of hands to drag everyone outside and over to the lake, which he swears has always been there.

"It's time I showed you guys something."

He leans down and chants something into the water in an alien tongue. Immediately, ripples form on the surface, stormy waves coming soon after. And lo! Upon the water stands a family. Thomas, Martha and some guy. Dick gapes.

"What?"

Thomas and Martha Wayne appear very happy, as does the somewhat familiar guy. They walk slowly across the lake, their tails somewhat slowing them down.

"Everyone, meet my parents and myself."

Dick gapes.

"That's Bruce Wayne?"

Bruce wipes a tear from his eye as he nods.

"Uh-huh."

Dick points at the Bruce standing beside him.

"Then that means…"

"Exactly! I'm a mermaid, Dick."

"I-I… what is...whuh?"

Bruce smiles brighter than any sun.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

Dick scratches his head.

"But if that's Bruce Wayne, who are you?"

Bruce chuckles.

"Bruce Wayne, of course. You of all people should know I lead a double life."

Dick rubs his temple.

"No, no, no. The double life is you as Bruce Wayne and Batman. Not Bruce, Batman and Bruce. One of you is not the other. You're clearly two different people."

Bruce waves his hand, dismissing Dick's nonsense.

"Fine, fine, triple life."

"But…but…"

The Hatter puts a pretty blue ribbon in his hair and Dick immediately calms down, dark justice focusing his mind.

* * *

><p>Later that night he is patrolling the city, trying to get to the bottom of this strange happiness business somebody mentioned sometime. It is not going well.<p>

"Justice is a harsh mistress," he mutters to the shadows.

"So you figured it out already?"

The shadows are dispelled by a radiant light, colorful colors all over the place.

"Who's there?"

It's hard to look, but Dick tries anyway, resulting in temporary blindness.

"I trained you well, it seems. Your keen detective mind rivals my own."

Dick blinks, tries not to give away his ignorance.

"Magpie?"

There is a short silence from the rainbow-person.

"Uh. Anyway, ahem. I guess it's no use trying to hide the truth from you anymore! You're right, I'm the one behind this, have been all along. I'm proud of you for figuring it out."

Dick blinks, his vision slowly returning.

"Killer Croc!"

There is an awkward shuffling from the bright enemy before him.

"Err. Maybe we'll just, uh, try again later?"

The unmistakable sound of someone plunging their hand into their chest, pulling out an absurdly long strip of moist flesh and throwing it like a snare comes from the dazzling rainbow person. A second later the unholy, wet thing is clinging to Dick's body, slithering along his supple frame. The smell of inhuman innards is strong.

"I'll be back," whispers the rainbow figure as it severs the strip of flesh and takes off into the night.

Dick shakes his fist at the retreating figure.

"I know where you live, Gordon!"

His attempts at pursuing the dastardly commissioner are halted by the disgusting ties that bind him. As his vision returns, he can see faces forming in the strange flesh entangling him. It's pretty disgusting, and he should really catch that felon, but…It's so, so tight. But Dick's determination does not waver! He puts up a valiant fight for a few moments, to keep up appearances.

"That don' look right," mutters Harley from the other end of the rooftop, where she's playing with her ponies.

"What are you doing here, Harley?"

She shrugs.

"Just getting some me-time. Everyone's so hyper these days, it gets a bit tiring."

To avoid insulting anyone, Dick focuses on the flesh currently sprouting faces. The faces belong to all the villains in town, including Jason.

"Hey, bro," the unbearably cool mass murderer says smoothly. Dick waves awkwardly.

The flesh starts squirming, crawling all over him. Ivy's face comes to a stop just in front of his, closing in to become a sort of human ball-gag. Dick smiles charmingly. Then Ivy's face is jerked away and replaced by the Riddler's. Dick groans. Something in the world audibly changes.

"Buenas noches," susurra el Acertijo misteriosamente.

La luz de sus ojos brillaba en la oscuridad como un fuego en la profundidad del mar. Dick parpadea.

"¿Qué?"

El Acertijo sonríe. Misteriosamente.

"Las preguntas son las respuestas. En la claridad de la luz, todo está oscuro."

Dick parpadea otra vez, de modo masculino.

"Por favor, cállate."

El Acertijo parece enfadado, misteriosamente.

"Soy mejor que usted. Nunca lo olvide."

Dick shakes his head as the Riddler's disembodied head slithers away from his face, coming to nest on his shoulder. The Penguin's face appears next.

"Enchanté."

Dick closes his eyes and screams, blotting out any further language changes.

* * *

><p>He opens his eyes to find himself standing in the ballroom back at the manor. A person unlike any other he has ever seen, like seriously, enters the room. All eyes turn to her, their orbs lustfully glued to her amazing body.<p>

"That's Ebony Ivory Cutlass Moon," Bruce sighs, his glittering dress paling in the face of this new arrival. "She's as rich as I am, as crazy as the Joker, hotter than anyone here and she has an IQ of 666."

Dick fans himself to keep from melting as the divine creature comes closer. She blinks innocently at the Joker, who nearly faints, then starts writing a musical about her. Then she continues, finally stopping in front of Dick and eying him like one would a piece of meat. She steps forward and shakes his hand, cheekily reaching around to pinch his butt at the same time. He blushes and swoons into her arms, staring up into her mismatched eyes, one a startling silver, the other gold. She leans down for a kiss, her foot long tongue quickly filling up his mouth. Someone snaps a picture.

"Her parents are dead," he hears Bruce whisper. He shudders. So perfect. So compatible.

She pulls away, much to his disappointment. She smiles, a row of perfectly white and unusually sharp teeth glinting in the light of the chandelier.

"Oh, don't worry. My parents may be dead, but they're always with me. I had parts of them implanted in my back, you see."

She steps back and points to the side, where the Scarecrow is being romanced by an exact copy of her. The Scarecrow-romancing stance perfectly displays her proud back, where the arms of her dead parents have been sown onto her body. They, along with copious amounts of what is presumably their flesh, form beautiful wings.

"Oh, my," Dick murmurs huskily.

"That's not all!"

She points to another copy, which stops macking on Two-Face for a second to smile Dick's way. She winks at him as her impossibly long tongue darts out of her mouth and disappears into a hole in the bad side of Harvey's face, only to reappear out of another wound, then entering Harv's mouth.

"Jesus," Dick mutters in lustful terror.

"He's got nothing to do with it, baby," coos another of the monstrosities as she lets Ivy fondle the curved horns coming out of her raven black hair, her raven black dress and raven black shoes glinting like the beady eyes of a raven-black raven.

Dick starts gently hyperventilating, wondering whether or not he likes her powerful arm on his back.

"You're so special," he moans as her fingers dance teasingly upon his lips.

Another copy dances by with a horribly wide smirk, the Hatter dangling in her arms, his feet a few inches short of reaching the floor. She smiles even wider as Dick notices that her feet are on backwards.

"Mmhmm," murmurs another copy, who is doing unspeakable things to the Riddler.

Looking around, Dick sees everyone is being romanced by this unstoppable love-beast, apart from Bruce, Selina and Alfred, who are nowhere to be seen. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Still, I dunno. This is a bit too weird."

He looks back at the original and gasps. Her eyes…No, her _orbs_ have turned red, staring at him with hellish intensity. They are actually on fire, the flames licking at the skin of her face, threatening to put her eyebrows aflame.

"Relax. Don't think. Just feel."

Her hair comes alive, shoots out with a hiss and binds him tight within the blink of an eye. As her tongue wraps around his neck and he's hoisted into the air, Dick forgets all his quarries with a manly, happy whimper.

"Meep."

Meep indeed.

* * *

><p>AN: Can't have a fanfic without an OC, now can we? Do you know what else all fanfics need?<p>

Oh, and I hope my Spanish hasn't caused any sudden eye-bleeds.


	14. The Birthing Joke

AN: Let us sail the stormy seas of emotion together.

_It is not men that shame titles, but titles that shame men._

* * *

><p>In a shitty apartment in a rickety house there stands a furry animal. Its regal posture and commanding eyes speak of great power and wisdom. It sits before a strange device which contains water and occasionally makes loud noises.<p>

Captain Snuffles likes toilets. They're mysterious and exciting. Tonight, this specimen is even more so. The captain notes with apprehension that the seat is rising. It happens slowly, quietly. The first sign of the intruder is a pair of black, pointy things.

The Batman's head slowly rises, the seat resting on his powerful ears. He peers around with a grim face, then crawls completely out of the toilet. Finally he notices he has company.

"Captain," he murmurs and nods his head in greeting.

He cleans himself masterfully before leaving. He goes into the living room, where the captain's slave is watching a horror film. Her eyes are dulled with boredom, her face heavy with frustration. It is Friday night and she is alone.

She blinks lazily, then screams. The Batman is hanging from the ceiling, his grim face blocking the television.

"What the hell?"

"I'm Batman. More importantly, I'm your friend."

He lowers himself, whips out a Bat-blanket and hands her some popcorn, then snuggles up in the opposing corner of the sofa. Captain Snuffles plops regally down between them. The night crawls comfortably by as they watch the film.

* * *

><p>The following afternoon, Dick knocks carefully on a door painted bright pink. Sunshine falls thick and heavy across the street. A lone child darts from shadow to shadow, seeking shelter from the warmth. Well-kept gardens are everywhere, filled with happy families enjoying their safety. Bile rises in Dick's throat. Gotham is a harsh parent, one who delights in eating her children alive.<p>

The door opens, a chirpy clown smiling at him from the well-lit hallway.

"Can I come in?" He gentlemanly asks as he pushes her to the floor and makes his way in.

The floor is a pillow however, and Harley bounces straight back up.

"Sure thing."

Dick grabs her hand, starts biting her nails.

"I'm at my wits end, Harley. There's something wrong, here, but I just can't figure out what."

Harley winces with a smile.

"Yeah, things are a bit weird this time around."

Dick looks up, suspicion in his eyes, Harley's finger in his mouth.

"This time?"

He lets go of her and collapses to the floor, where he hazily starts drawing circles.

"Uh. Yeah, this time. The plot's all wrong, y'know? Still, very demanding."

She can barely hide the awed tremble in her voice. It has been a long time since anyone fell to her floor without bouncing back up. A long time.

"You can see the plot? What does it look like?"

Dick looks up, stops drawing circles. Harley's hands are all over the place, trying to articulate her thoughts.

"Well, it looks kinda weird this time. Like it got hit by a bus a few times before it got here."

Dick draws a circular bus on the floor. Harley tries to distract him.

"It seems to like you though."

He blushes, curls his hair around a finger.

"Really?"

She sighs.

"See what I mean? You're actin' all weird as well."

Dick stands up, his shoulders tense.

"Then who's behind this? Who's the villain?"

Harley blinks.

"Say what?"

Dick sighs, exasperated.

"Who we gotta beat up? You know, good versus evil, that sorta stuff. Whenever there's a problem, we just beat it up and throw it in jail. Right?"

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Eddie?"

Dick looks in the mirror. He is the Riddler. The Riddler screams.

"What the hell is going on? Stop! Please stop it!"

Harley's voice is worried yet reassuring.

"You feelin' okay?"

The Riddler is now Dick again.

"I'm perfectly fine."

Harley scratches her head, then fades from Dick's view as he fades from reality.

* * *

><p>"U-ugh."<p>

Bruce blinks, suspicion in his eyes.

"What?"

Dick rubs his head, peers around the manor living room.

"Nothing, nothing. Just felt like I was somewhere else for a second."

Bruce's eyes are wide and bloodshot, dark circles below them, but his smile is wide as ever.

"Haha, really? How strange!"

Alfred pours him a cup of tea, the steaming water falling with a soothing sound. He then adds a few droplets of an unknown liquid. Ah, Alfred's Sunday Special. Nothing quite like it.

"So you think the world's a bit wonky, Dick? Hmm?"

Dick peers up at Bruce, trying not to inhale the fumes from his cup just yet.

"What? Did I say that here?"

Bruce bites down on his tongue, then turns to the guests.

"Yes! We all heard it! Didn't we, friends?"

The assorted friends all nod.

"Oh. Okay then."

The friends look away and immerse themselves in mirth. The Hatter is speaking enthusiastically to the Scarecrow's head, which lies in the lap of Poison Ivy, who is wearing a rather snappy Victorian-era dress.

"Did you hear about Mr. Burr? Dreadful business."

Scarecrow looks around for support, but receives none, not even from Ivy. She is busy stroking his hair.

"I have no idea who that is, but go on."

The Hatter takes a tiny sip of his tea.

"It was just the other night, at Mrs. Rutherford's gala. Mr. Burr was introducing himself when all of a sudden: His legs lose interest in his life! They tear themselves loose, leaving poor Mr. Burr bleeding and dumbfounded on the doorstep. Then, before our very eyes, the rascally legs jump up into the air and refuse to come down! There was much pleading and threatening but the villains just would not listen. Poor Mr. Burr could do nothing but watch helplessly as his proud legs danced upon the cool night air!"

The Hatter takes another sip, his excited eyes fixed on the Scarecrow. Ivy pours some tea in the head's mouth. He swallows, sighs.

"How dreadful."

The Hatter nods enthusiastically.

Elsewhere, Cass and the Penguin are inspecting a work of art, expressing their disgust through bird-like squawks. Their top hats are fine, their monocles finer, their cigarette-holders the finest.

At the end of the room sit Bane and Croc, accompanied by the Scarecrow's body. They are playing cards. Tension is thick in the air.

Bruce stares at Dick, his eyes seemingly incapable of blinking.

"Well, maybe this weirdness you speak of has something to do with that mysterious visitor yesterday. That young lady seemed like quite the tricky customer."

Dick purses his lips, stares into nothingness.

"Who?"

Bruce's warm eyes show a glint of hate and a speck of pride.

"Ees I, noisrevid taht hguorht was dnim neek ruoy."

Dick takes a sip of his tea.

"What was...?"

"Have I ever told you guys how much I love you?"

Dick can't bring himself to feel mad at Bruce's rude interruption. The latter continues in an emotional bellow.

"Let me count the ways!"

Bruce holds a brilliant speech about every one of them being like a unique color in the rainbow of his life. It envelops the mansion in love and compassion. Joker throws up a little. Then more. Boy, that ain't stopping. Dick leans over him.

"Are…are you dying?"

Joker's answer is a peculiar mix of red and brown, saturated with some chunky bits amidst the thick liquid. The carmine in between the recycled nutrition is in striking contrast with the clean, white tiles of the manor, which reflect the hopes and dreams of Alfred's shiny heart. The Joker's chest heaves up and down like the belly of some great beast. There is a slow drizzle of sepia, but this dribble soon turns to a flood, covering the floor like a biblical disaster. Tears form in his eyes from the endless exertion, then fall, down, mingling with the rainbow of stinky colors below. Bruce's watching eyes are like interested glaciers, coolly reflecting the light of the cold chandelier above. They are blue like the ocean, deep as the sea, stormy like the ocean. Then they lose interest as a butterfly drifts past the window.

The speech changes drastically in tone, going from sentimental to crass without missing a beat. Instead of the emotional ways he loves them, he now starts counting the ways in which he wants to physically love them. Joker stops dying. The room seems awkward, yet intrigued.

* * *

><p>That evening, Harvey Bullock finds himself lost in a sea of warm gray. It bothers him, somewhere deep down, just how much he craves this. He, the toughest cop in Gotham, brought to his knees by something so childish as love. The gray mustache pulls away, hesitantly.<p>

"No one at the station can find out. They won't let us work together anymore if they find out."

Bullock clenches his fist.

"It'll work out somehow, I just knows it. I'm never letting go, Commish."

There is a knock on the door and the Commissioner pushes his lover into the closet. He runs out into the living room, where his daughter is drinking coffee.

"Barbara? I-I didn't know you where here."

He blushes a manly shade of red. There is another knock on the door.

"Coming, coming."

He opens it and gasps. He turns a pale white. On the other side of the door stands a ghoulishly grinning man in flip-flops, wearing shorts, a hawaiian shirt and a fedora. On his chest rests a camera and in his hand…a gun!

"R-Richard?"

There is a loud bang and the Commissioner tumbles onto the table, sending Barbara's paper and her cup plummeting to the ground. A sleeping dart sticks out of his belly. Barbara yells, but is soon overcome by Dick's goons. Bullock has fallen asleep in the closet.

* * *

><p>In a barn somewhere downtown, surrounded by hay, mucous and flickering lights, a man lies sweating. In his arms is something unthinkable, on his lips a weary smile. He knows, he thinks with a happy sigh, he knows the universe.<p>

And he does indeed. For Rhino now knows the love of a mother for her newborn.

Such poetry. The kind that makes you want to wail at the moon. Outside in the dark night, politicians and bankers do just that, revealing their true nature for the first time in ages.

Oh! How beauteous the world! How faint the stench!

* * *

><p>AN: That's right, the other thing every good fanfic needs is mpreg. This is starting to feel like a pretty solid story.<p> 


	15. Passion of the Batman

AN: Whew, at last I've got the rest of the plot down.

_One man's bread is another man's butter._

* * *

><p>Barbara quickly comes out of her drugged stupor. The first thing she notices is an unfamiliar pressure against her chest. It almost feels like…bondage gear.<p>

"Ah, you're awake."

The distant voice is familiar. Her eyes open to the sight of grinning carnival workers. She feels a little jolt and suddenly she is moving. A look down reveals her wheelchair is fastened to a railway.

"I'm on to you, Barbara," continues the unseen talker.

She tries to move her hands, to little avail. The carnival workers keep a close eye on her, their barbaric faces promising harsh answers to any attempt at an escape. Barbara rolls into a haunted house.

"You will talk, Barbara."

On the walls she slowly passes there are photographs of some hunk. On further inspection, it turns out to be her father, sleeping naked in all sorts of provocative poses. Barbara blushes.

"Everything was going according to plan, wasn't it, Barbara?"

She looks around, tries to remember where she's heard the voice from the speakers before.

"First you altered the Scarecrow's mind, to keep him from interfering."

"Who are you?"

Her question goes unanswered.

"Then you had some ice cream to celebrate your success. Three scoops. Strawberry. Chocolate. Then another strawberry."

Barbara's face wrinkles in puzzlement.

"Your next step was to hook your father up with Bullock, so you could take compromising pictures of them and gain an iron grip on the police force."

"I..."

She finds there are no words.

"Then you gave Harley some toys and convinced Ivy to try a more peaceful way."

She blushes a deep crimson. On the photograph before her her father seems to have woken up. He is blinking at the camera and smiling saucily.

"Next you turned Catwoman into a werecat, so Batman would marry her. It must have been exhilarating, Barbara, seeing your plan working so perfectly."

Her father's finely flexed muscles keep her from answering.

"Then you kicked a puppy and revealed your true identity to one of the strippers working at your club, who just turned out to be Batman."

She tries wracking her brain. Dick's voice. Bondage gear. Who could this be?

"You bribed Wonder Woman with a free pass to your club, then partied with her. Then you had some tea with the Mad Hatter, just like it was a regular Tuesday, to throw me off your trail."

The awkward clanking of her wheels on the rails grow unbearably loud as she bites down on her lower lip. Her mind is working at a fever pitch, but no answer presents itself.

"Next you defeated Clayface in a game of tic-tac-toe, persuading him to return to Arkham."

"I…I don't even…"

An irritated sigh comes from the speakers.

"Then you convinced Croc to become an artist, to pass yourself off as a patron of the arts. You thought you were so smart, didn't you, Barbara?"

"I-I…"

The voice chuckles smugly.

"The next step was to convince Bruce to hold a slumber party. What you didn't tell him was that you had rigged cameras all over the place. You got yourself a nice tape of Croc and Bane wrestling, which, aside from ensuring wrestling is in again, brought sexy back."

"I…"

Dick's mysterious voice growls.

"Then you invented a way for Bruce to travel back in time. You gave him your death-piercing bullets so he could save his parents. But you had ulterior motives. You just wanted him to stop being a vigilante. I have to admit, Barbara, it was ingenious, it really was."

"I…I…"

She comes to a full stop. In front of her stands a mysterious man, admiring another nude photo of her father. She blushes fiercely.

"But you just can't fool me, Barbara. I know you too well. For I am…"

Dick turns mysteriously around to reveal his shocking identity. Barbara finds herself face to face with…Dick Grayson!

"You!"

He nods gravely.

"I can understand your motives, Barbara. You needed the money to feed your starving family. I sympathize, I really do."

"I…what?"

He smiles, justice in his eyes.

"It's over, Barbara."

She stammers and gawks for a few moments.

"I…you…you're right. About all of it."

Dick smiles gravely, nods lightheartedly.

"Well, I'm glad that's over. See ya."

But as soon as he is out of view, Barbara's shoulders start shaking. She throws her head back and howls with laughter.

"Fool! You have no idea who you're dealing with! Yes! I am…"

She tears off a mask, revealing the villainous face of…Barbara Gordon! Her hollow laughter rings out in the cold, empty carnival.

* * *

><p>Chilling in the garden, talking of dreams. This is what the inhabitants and guests at Wayne Manor are doing. The grass is soft, their feelings softer. Alfred's judgmental eyes as he serves tea and biscuits, however, are hard as the unforgiving steel.<p>

"Tell me, friends," the cold voice of vengeance rings out in the warm sun, "What would be your dream job?"

The ground trembles as Bane flexes his abundant muscles.

"I will become a nurse!"

His manly roar dies out after a few minutes. Scarecrow's bones creak as he twists his body to smile at all his friends.

"I want to be a reporter," he whispers feverishly, his eyes glinting with malice and good intentions.

Two-Face laughs happily, smiles happily, and speaks happily.

"I'm going to become a politician again, of course!"

Riddler sighs as he deciphers the meaning of life.

"I don't wanna grow up."

Ivy takes a drag on her cigarette.

"I want to be a rock star."

Firefly looks up from the grill.

"I wanna burn."

Catwoman nods her head suavely.

"I want to give society the middle finger."

The Batman smiles proudly.

"And I will become…the great pirate Batbeard!"

All eyes turn to the Hatter, who folds under the intense peer pressure and answers too.

"Salutations."

All eyes stay focused on him.

"What are you wearing, Jervis?"

Jervis smiles seductively and poses in a way that really should break his spine.

"Please, call me White Rabbit."

His small frame is mostly bare, only his most private parts covered. Provocative bunny ears grace his head.

"Uh."

The Hatter smiles.

"Diverse, wouldn't you say?"

There is a short moment of discomfort. But suddenly, a ferocious ray of sunshine blows the Scarecrow over.

"Looks like the sunshine's picking up," Batman growls unnecessarily.

Wave after wave whooshes across the grass, the incredible warmth licking at their clothes and skin as they scamper away.

"It's a full blown storm!"

So they race to the safety of the manor, the unforgiving sunshine hot on their heels.

* * *

><p>Rupert Thorne sits in his office, a cigar between his lips. The door opens and Batman strolls in.<p>

"Hello."

The Batman opens the window and leaves. Rupert's movements cease. His closet opens and Batman strolls out.

"Good evening."

He opens the door to the private bathroom and closes it behind him. Rupert's eyes bulge ever so slightly. The door opens and his secretary walks in. She looks perfectly ordinary, apart from the fact that she has Batman's face.

"Your coffee, sir."

And his voice. Rupert gapes as Bat-secretary pours him his coffee before leaving. The door opens again and Rupert goes for his gun. But it grows a pair of leathery wings and flutters away, leaving him helpless as Batman enters and waters his plants.

"Thirsty, Rupert?"

The Batman saws a hole in the floor and leaves. Rupert reaches for the emergency button. But it has become vengeance. The Batman saunters in from the bathroom, clean as hell.

"The water's warm, Rupert."

The Batman winks and leaves. Rupert reaches for his trusty cyanide dose, but it is the night. His tormentor enters with the breakfast of champions on a plate. Rupert trembles, tries to break a mirror to cut himself with the shards. But his reflection is Batman.

"Hey there," it says.

Rupert clutches his head as he tries to keep breathing.

"I…I will give up on crime now, okay? I'm just…just gonna be a florist or something. Okay? Please?"

There is a friendly hand on his shoulder. Rupert looks up to see the friendly face of Batman smiling down at him.

"That sounds wonderful, Rupert."

He is overcome by the impossible dreams of bygone times. He screams, he wails, he cries.

* * *

><p>AN: Sometimes I worry...Perhaps this story is a little too beautiful.<p> 


	16. Quartz Dogs

AN: This chapter is short. Like life.

_When in possession of an umbrella, remember to catch as much rain as you can with it._

* * *

><p>The dogs are coming.<p>

There is a frenzied barking and pounding outside the walls of the manor. The dogs are coming. The guests all peer this way and that in horror.

"What's happening, Bruce?"

Bruce stares emptily.

"It was 20 years ago now…"

The pounding intensifies.

"The dogs are coming! The dogs are coming!"

The guests all scream and wail. Suddenly the pounding stops. There is a jingling of keys at the front door and soon it creaks open. The sound of padded feet emanates from the entrance. In comes a man-size Doberman walking on two legs, clad in a pinstripe suit, a derby hat on his head.

"Don't be scared," says the furry face looking down at Dick, "I'm just a dog after all."

It opens its jaws wide and bites off Dick's face. Outside the pounding renews. The dogs are coming.

* * *

><p>Dick wakes slowly to the sound of himself groaning.<p>

"What on earth are you doing?"

He feels the familiar sensation of ropes digging snugly into his skin.

"You should be trying to escape. Lives are at stake, you know."

He tries to drown out the pestering voice by moaning loudly.

"This is confusing and disturbing and I want you to stop."

The owner of the voice slaps him. He smiles.

"O-hoho," he chuckles demurely.

He hears the gnashing of teeth just above him.

"You're supposed to solve the riddles, race against time, despair at my devilish traps! Not…this."

Dick opens one eye, lazily eying the pesky Riddler.

"Hmm? Was it all a dream maybe?"

"What now?"

Nope. The Riddler's frothing mouth reveals two gleaming, sharp teeth.

"Oh, well. Ahem. There's no place like home."

He clamps his butt cheeks together three times and is immediately and magically transported away.

* * *

><p>He is back in Wayne Manor. The doors threaten to break under the strain of whatever is on the other side. The ruckus of the dogs is tremendous. "Bow-wow. Woof, woof." Absolutely tremendous.<p>

"Bruce! What do we do?"

Bruce shakes his head sadly.

"We do nothing. That would be against the rules.

Bane steps forward, puffing his chest.

"Spines are made to be broken. Rules. I meant rules."

Dick gives the thumbs up.

"Okay, let's see what you can do."

Through the mask, Bane is probably smiling like a man's man.

"Well, then. Let me just mount my giant tiger, grab the gatling gun like so, take some of my steroids, start the manly rock music please…And we are ready to go."

He pummels through the door on his magnificent mount, his gatling gun glaring, his steroids soaring through his veins, the manly rock music mowing down the monstrous foes outside.

Dick gapes, then mutters an involuntary "Hell yeah."

Bruce shakes his head sadly, then turns to Dick.

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but I am sometimes called Bat-god. And worshiped as such, but that's a story for another day."

Dick nods.

"Of course, that's when they're referring to your talent of pulling a Deus Ex Machina out of your behind or your superpower of making everyone around you incompetent. Joker seems to have that latter one, too."

Bruce smiles incredulously.

"But of course, he's my long lost twin."

"Gee, Batman, I didn't know that! Holy armbinders!"

Bruce scratches his chin and narrows his eyes.

"Or is he my long lost daughter, Esmeralda Skye Wayne? I keep getting these things mixed together."

Dick laughs politely, knowing that this downwards funk is nowhere near done. It is the year of the scavenger, after all.

* * *

><p>AN: The beginning is probably in sight. There is only so much the mind can take, after all. Now that the novelty has worn off this is just like some random nonsense, whereas earlier it was carefully structured and philosophical.<p> 


	17. You Must Have Been a Beautiful Geezer

AN: Look into your hearts and see the love this story has sown there.

_Swimming is a good thing. Thinking is not._

* * *

><p>They are in the mansion. There are no dogs, but Killer Croc and Bane are having a spat.<p>

"You will kiss my snout four times."

The beast stares expectantly, patting said snout as he eagerly awaits for some gentle lips. Bane is not amused.

"No! Not before you become less manly beast and more beastly man. Then we wrestle."

Everyone looks away. Someone enters, his shoes clacking loudly on the pristine marble, drudging shitty dirt all over.

Alfred stares at the newcomer with hateful eyes. He hisses cattily.

"_Wilfred_. My arch-nemesis."

Dick stares at the stranger.

"Vampfred's nemesis? I wonder what that makes him. Werewolf? Zombie? Undead hunter?" He looks over at the bloodthirsty butler. "Tell us, Alfred. What is he?"

Alfred's gaze remains steady.

"He is a moron. And a scoundrel."

Wilfred stares back at the butler with mild interest. Dick coughs.

"Okay, but what does he do?"

Alfred clenches his fists.

"He does stupid things."

The tension rises. Bruce glances worriedly between the two and yawns. Dick trudges on.

"But how does that make him your enemy?"

Alfred's nostrils flare. Wilfred smiles.

"His actions are moronic enough to change the fabric of reality. Look now, sir. This man is blind."

Dick peers at Wilfred's unimposing figure.

"I don't think he's blind, Alfred. He's looking right at you, noncommittal recognition in his eyes."

Alfred sighs.

"That, good fellow, is because he is too simple to understand he's blind. Therefore, he is not."

Wilfred laughs and gives the ceiling an acidic glare.

"I am a baker who likes to swim," he announces. Suddenly the room is flooded with icy water and spicy loafs of bread.

"At least this should drown the dogs," Dick mutters as the wave hits.

"What are you talking about?"

Bruce stands by the table looking bored. There is no water anymore. Dick scratches his head.

"What happened to…"

"There never was any water."

His lips curve downwards at the interruption. Bruce smiles, all glittering teeth and bright eyes.

"You see, I chose the next scene. You remember how boring walking between significant events used to be? Now we don't need to do that. Each of my fingers," he spreads them out, "holds a possible future."

Dick stares at the spread fingers.

"So there are always ten choices in life?"

Bruce smiles, then smiles.

"Haha, no. Ha! Ha! Ha! No, no."

He nudges his head to call Dick's attention to his back. Two long hands stick out of it. Upon them lies a veritable forest of fingers, all revealing glimpses of other worlds that are almost exactly like this one.

"Wow, Bruce. You're like… the world tree or something."

Bruce smiles with a grimace.

"That's because I am, son. It's because I am."

Suddenly Bruce is no longer smiling. His back is turned.

"Bruce?"

He slowly turns around, revealing wide eyes and a frozen smile.

"What's wrong?"

Dick's question goes unanswered. Bruce remains completely still, his face unflinching and his eyes unblinking. Dick looks around. Everyone is staring at him with frozen smiles.

"Holy paddle, Batman. What is going on?"

He walks around the room. They still don't move, but their eyes seem to follow his movement. He peers up. Even the clock is unmoving. But the clouds outside are not frozen, he notes with tasteful terror brewing in his bones.

"Stop it, guys."

He stares at his father's immobile form. There is a truly repugnant look on his face. The smile hardly looks human.

"Oh, alright, alright. I get it."

He gives Bruce's hand a ferocious high-five.

* * *

><p>He walks slowly through the damp corn, the skies above looking dark and heavy. There is something strange about the corn. He inspects it closer. There are faces growing out of the plants, stuck in a permanent, soundless wail. Jonathan gurgles with happiness and strokes his fingers over them. They're dead, dead, all dead! He swirls and runs and dances through the thick corn.<p>

Edward sneers as he towers over the masses. Their faces are ones of herp, derp and horror.

He glides gracefully through the skies, expertly catching the winds with his umbrella. Below the plebs gaze and wonder at his graceful form. He laughs and scoffs at them as he blazes on.

* * *

><p>Slowly, the door to the mansion bursts open.<p>

"Lo, I have returned."

Countless eyes blink at the newcomer.

"Behold! It is I, Stephanie. Your joyful compatriot of many months."

Dick peers at her face, admiring the monocle gracing it.

"Stephanie?"

Bruce bellows jovially and shakes the girl's hand with reckless abandon.

"Welcome home, trooper! Some things have changed on this front. I am now a deity of sorts and hold infinite power. You see, Gotham is no longer my city. I have become Gotham, you know? No longer just a man, I am now a city as well. The dirt, the pavement, the animals, every person who has ever lived here. I am all."

Stephanie stares incredulously.

"But of course. I expected no less. I remain indifferent, however." She trots down the hall, ringing a bell. "Servant! Servant!"

Poison Ivy leers at her as she passes.

"What's a sweet little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

Stephanie opens her mouth with wild abandon.

"I live here occasionally."

* * *

><p>In a dark alley, Baby Doll plays with two brightly colored balls. Up and down and all around. She plays, joyful as can be. The gall of it!<p>

Thankfully Batman materializes and charges the felon. His swift legs kick the balls out of the detestable woman's reach. He bellows in victory.

"My parents aren't dead!"

The heinous villain shudders before coming up with a particularly bright idea. The dastardly criminal drops to the ground and plays dead! Our intrepid hero stares, confused. He nudges her twice with his foot, then gives up. He strolls down the alley growling. Searching for more wrongs to set right, more dreams to destroy.

Elsewhere in Gotham, Lois Lane stands before a canvas, artfully painting a tasteful nude portrait of Superman. Her model lies demurely on a divan, grapes disappearing one by one into his supermouth.

Before this act of debauchery can go any further, the hero Gotham deserves breaks the window and climbs in. He stares at the duo, hurt in his eyes. He draws a mighty breath to properly articulate his anger.

"My city!"

The tasteful portrait quickly burns up, reduced to nothing by the black flames of Batman's third eye. Lois calls the police.

Two hours later, Batman has made bail. Jason Todd waits outside the station with a tall, orange-skinned, green-eyed woman by his side. Batman looks his lost son over, his eyes brimming with emotion.

"Jason, you…you're glowing."

Jason smiles.

"Yes, we found out just yesterday. We're with child."

His smile beams up at his alien girlfriend, who recites a passage from a memorable car insurance ad from her planet. Bruce ignores the drunk-octopus-like sounds and goes straight for the hug. It is a beautiful moment, one which inspires tears in the reader.

* * *

><p>AN: This can probably be wrapped up in one more chapter with no plot-threads left hanging. If Quetzalcoatl be willing.<p> 


	18. The Ending of the Beginning

AN: Here we are.

_What a short, ordinary journey it's been._

* * *

><p>"Now look here, Batman. You can't just cut the city off from the rest of the country, or reality for that matter. The government won't let that nonsense slide. So either you return it, or we might just have a situation on our hands."<p>

As Batman floats on his cloud he ponders the proposition, as respectable diplomats are wont. Respectable diplomats would not answer as Batman did, however.

"Blah, blah, blah. Come join us instead."

Before the soldier's astonished eyes, Batman's legs transform into smoke. Having not been blessed with the countenance of the Bat-genie before, the soldier politely screams the following question:

"What the hell are you?"

As the soldier cries tears of anguish and terror mixed with confusion, his godly adversary snarls.

"I! Am! Gothman!"

The soldier wails as Batman puts a finger to his lips as he ponders.

"Maybe that's not the best name."

As the soldier tries to grasp the situation while simultaneously losing his mind, hordes of his fellows are being surrounded by even more numerous hordes of Batmen, who are shouting merrily.

"One of us! One of us!"

And soon enough they do become one with Gotham. And they all smile.

* * *

><p>Dick stands in an office at Arkham. His hair cascades on the back of his head like a waterfall. The Penguin, Cass, and Steph are also present. Their hair is inconsequential.<p>

"Well, we better go through the Arkham files, see the most dangerous psyches Batman absorbed."

Steph checks her watch.

"Sounds like a dreadfully boring plan."

The Penguin huffs.

"I think it's a wonderful plan. Such a smart boy."

Dick blushes as he leafs through the reports.

"Let's see, Joker's diagnosis: Batshit crazy. How strange."

Cass nods in agreement or out of spite.

"Okay, then, Two-Face's diagnosis: Cuhrayzee. Hmm, I'm not familiar with the term."

Dick taps his lips in puzzlement.

"Poison Ivy: Bonkers. This must be written in code or something. Never knew the doctors here did so much hard work."

Steph peers around.

"Is the room getting darker?"

Dick clenches his jaw.

"I don't see anything."

Cass scratches her head.

"Do you hear a faint echo of "My parents are deeeeaaad! (But not anymoooore!)"?"

Dick's eyes bulge.

"I do not."

Batman's head pops out of the files in Dick's hands.

"Holy reddened buttocks, Batman!"

"Come to the mansion."

Batman's body swirls, the showing Joker nibbling on Black Mask's face, in a friendly way. It is a bit puzzling.

"Okay, Batman."

They disappear in a swirl of dark vengeance and spiked gauntlets and extreme concepts.

* * *

><p>"Welcome home, kids! And Penguin."<p>

Batman struts down the hall, buried in thought.

"I've brought you here today because I've decided to tell you of a way to keep things this way forever."

Cass cocks her head.

"What way?"

Batman's hands fly this way and that, dismissively.

"Oh, you know. The way we are right now. Do you enjoy life at the moment?"

She shrugs.

"Sure."

Batman smiles and laughs.

"Excellent! Excellent! It's settled then. Now, I'm going to need a volunteer."

He grabs Dick and pries his mouth open.

"I need to punch through to another world and knock a certain someone out."

Dick blinks.

"What does my mouth have to do with it?"

Batman smiles reassuringly.

"It's not a widely known fact, but people's throats can serve as portals to other worlds."

Murmurs of relaxed astonishment come from the crowd. Batman prepares himself, then begins to piston in and out of Dick's mouth.

"This is very uncomfortable. Wait, how am I speaking?"

Beads of perspiration form on Bruce's forehead as he thrusts with wild abandon. In another universe a fist materializes out of a screen, hitting a hapless amateur writer who falls senseless to the floor. Batman curses. "Curses! It's not stopping. I was sure that was the guy. Anyway, I created another mouth in your left ear."

Dick clears his ear.

"Ahem. Wow. But you forgot to put lips. I can't stop drooling and it's very uncomfortable."

Bruce pulls out with a look of hurt.

"It's all about you, isn't it?"

Dick blinks.

"Yes?"

Bruce throws up his hands.

"Suppose you'd be better at playing god, too. Would you like that, Dick? Godlike powers?"

Dick shrugs.

"Why the hell not?"

With a snap of his fingers, Batman creates another omnipotent being. Dick leaves the physical plane.

* * *

><p>He finds himself everywhere. His perspective is everything. The world is rather pretty, he supposes. But it's lacking a certain little something. Dick exercises his power and rearranges the stars, so that they resemble a human being in bondage.<p>

Dickgod twitches and spasms happily. But soon he finds himself restrained to a single form in a single corner of the universe, falling. Suddenly, Catwoman! She grabs his hand with a grin. He smiles, relieved. Being a god is confusing and timeless, yet hurried. If it were a narrative, it would surely be annoying.

"Never let go," he whispers to his savior.

"I just did."

Catwoman's smirking face grows distant as he falls into the abyss.

"Goddammit, Catwomaaaaaaan!"

* * *

><p>Dick reappears in the physical plane, on the floor of Wayne Manor. He stands up, points a finger, and shouts.<p>

"She ruined my godhood!"

Batman shakes his head, condescension in his voice.

"No, she only hastened your return. It would have happened anyway. The universe is rated PG-13. You can't have stuff of a sexual nature."

Dick blushes.

"Oh. How about violence?"

Bruce laughs.

"Of course you can have violence. Violence is good. Sex is bad. Haven't I taught you this already?"

Dick doesn't answer, for he has noticed his pregnant brother.

"Geez, Jason, you've put on some weight."

Jason smiles as he twirls a wickedly curved dagger.

"Hey, bro."

Dick clears his throat.

"So, uh, you're one of the good guys now, huh?"

Jason nods his head.

"Yep. I'm on the road to peace. And the road to peace is paved with severed limbs and decapitated heads."

Dick swallows.

"R-right. I'm glad to have you back. Sure am."

Jason smiles, then frowns. He falls over, grasping his throat. Starfire yelps.

"It's time! The children are coming!"

Dick stares at her, bewildered.

"I think he's suffocating."

Starfire smiles sweetly.

"Yes, the children are crawling up."

Dick puts on a horrified face. Batman is on top of everything however, even Jason. He pats his son on the head.

"Better use the spiritual breathing technique I learned in the depths of Madame Valeur's bordello."

Dick can hold back no longer.

"Ugh."

Batman looks up disapprovingly.

"Stop acting like a child and make yourself useful. There are some pills in the attic. Go get them."

Dick needs no further incentive to dart out of the room.

* * *

><p>As soon as he reaches the attic he finds himself faced with a man named Rhino, who smiles at him. Dick swallows. There is something disgusting in the man's arms, something hairy and rainbow-colored and beautiful.<p>

"Do I…know you?"

The man Dick does not know is named Rhino smiles sadly now.

"I've always been here."

He pokes Dick in the chest, above his heart.

"In here."

Dick smiles awkwardly and slowly turns around, accidentally leaving reality as he does so.

* * *

><p>The hat falls off Dick's head and he finds himself in some villainous lair.<p>

"Aaaaah! So it was all a dream?"

He raises the gun to his head.

"I can hardly tell," murmurs the Mad Hatter, "But you should pull the trigger all the same."

"Right."

Dick does so, splattering parts of his brain onto the wall. Most of the contents of his skull seem content with hovering in the air, however, and flatly refuse to follow the laws of physics.

"I'm looking for the sunshine but I find only rain," Dick intones.

The Hatter sighs wearily.

"Too true. 'Twas in September, no?"

* * *

><p>Dick finds himself back in the attic. A shadow passes by, then wicked claw marks start appearing on the walls.<p>

"Oh, no! It's not even a full moon, though."

He flits between pondering and screaming as he runs. At the end of the hall Catwoman appears. She goes on all fours.

"Arr! Arr! Arrr-Miaaaoowww!"

Dick blinks at the grinning figure.

"You're just messing with me, aren't you?"

"Yep."

He sighs.

"And the claws tearing the walls apart?"

She grins.

"Scarecrow."

He sighs.

"Goddammit, Scarecrow."

The good doctor steps out sheepishly.

"What? I'm a reporter. I'm just doing my job."

Dick walks over to a cabin, picking out the Bat-pregnancy-hoodoo pills.

"Let's get going, guys."

* * *

><p>The trio arrives back in the living room just in time to see the last of Jason's offspring crawling out of his mouth. Dick fights the urge to throw up. He looks on with disgust as Starfire coos happily.<p>

A hairless, cat-like creature with Jason's face flits past his view and he throws up a little. Batman raises his hand to get everyone's attention.

"Now that we've successfully averted that crisis," he frowns for a moment and kicks away one of the human kittens as it starts to gnaw his shiny boots, "it's time to create another one."

The gathered villains and heroes and Alfred all clap their hands.

"There's some git out there in another universe that we need to lay the smack down on. So everyone prepare your portals, and as Alfred sounds the trumpet, we'll all begin at the same time. Sooner or later we're bound to find the right sucker, and when that happens, I want you to be ready to be happy. Okay?"

The others roar quietly in agreement.

"Hurray," murmurs Baby Doll.

As the trumpet sounds Alfred they all thrust their hands down their throats. Across the universes fists and spittle strike hapless writer after hapless writer. Finally Batman raises his hand once more.

"I think we got him."

An elephant appears in the room, blushing. Dick gives Batman a sultry look and murmurs huskily, slowly removing his shirt in a provocative manner.

"I don't think it's stopping, Batman."

They begin again. Fists appear over the cosmos and other big words, but to no avail. Their quarry eludes them, perhaps he is just too smart. Besides, everyone knows you're always safe if you're smil-GACK


End file.
